Bargain
by Closet Adventuralist
Summary: Rebecca returns to Bon Temps to escape her troubles, but when she makes a deal with Eric, she may have jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.  EricXOC  Part one of a planned trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! Here is another story for your viewing pleasure. In the coming chapters, I would ask that you please remember the kind of personality Eric displays and how it can be misinterpreted throughout the next ten or eleven chapters. This is going to be a little bit of a rough ride, so hang on to your keyboards!**

**Closet Adventuralist**

**Also, Reviews=LOVE and will induce me to upload the already written chapters faster.  
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She wasn't certain Sookie still lived in that paint crusted house she remembered, but here she was, standing just in front of the porch, anyways, holding a suitcase in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Rebecca Greenwood was mulling over what to say to a friend she hadn't seen in five years, give or take a month or two. The town hadn't changed much, still God-awful hot, still smelling of sweet grass and loneliness. Rebecca wondered if Sookie had stayed the same, like the town, or if her friend had blossomed into that beautiful young woman she had imagined while away.

Cocking one hip, Rebecca glanced down the driveway, then skimmed the windows. It didn't look like anyone was home. Probably Sookie was at work, probably she should have checked there first. Probably she was stalling. Hell, she'd drive over to Merlotte's and have a beer with Sam before she went about imposing on Sookie's time.  
>With a resolute tensing of muscles that brought her spine straight up, Rebecca walked back to her car and flung her suitcase in the backseat. The drive to the only decent bar in Bon Temps was dry, the arid wind whipping through her open window and doing little to cool her flushed and sweating skin. She turned into the parking lot and switched off the engine. It looked much the same as when she'd left-barely hanging together.<p>

Like Bon Temps, Sam didn't really do change. He stood against it like some jagged cliff against the beating of the ocean waves-eroding, but holding firm until he could stand no longer. Rebecca felt sure that he would forgive her, her sudden departure and silence. She had been young and in love, barely out of her teens. Brandon had been so handsome, so charming, and so wild that she couldn't say no. He was her only ticket out of this town, and Rebecca wasn't going to let an opportunity like Brandon Maddington pass her by. She hopped on the back of his Harley and hadn't looked back-until now.

Ambling out of the car, Rebecca wiped the sweat from her brow and rubbed her damp palms on her jeans. "Here goes nothin'," she said to herself.

Then, she planted a smile on her face and crossed the short distance to the entrance. Catching sight of Sam through the window as she opened the door, Rebecca knew she was right. He stood wiping down the bar, plaid shirt firmly buttoned 'round his torso-blue to match his eyes. He looked exactly the same, save a few grey hairs at his temples. Rebecca's smile widened at he looked at her, recognition blossoming across his face.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," he said, walking around the side of the bar.

Rebecca opened her arms wide, "Guess who's back!"

Sam wrapper her in a tight embrace, pulling back to give her a once over, "Well, I'll be. You've grown up, Becky."

"Rebecca," she corrected mildly. Then, she smiled and said, "Looks like I'm not the only one, old man." She playfully picked at the hairs that had lost some of the dirty-blonde sheen.

Sam had the good sense to blush and swat her hands away. "Does Sookie know you're back?"

"No, I just got in. Thought I'd stop in for a brew."

Sam smiled widely, with real joy shining in his eyes. "You came to the right place. C'mon, first one's on the house." He returned to his station behind the bar and pulled a cold beer from the fridge, popping the cap off with practiced ease.

"So, what have you been doing all these years?"

Rebecca sipped her drink, contemplating just how much she should tell him. He would listen to her whole story, if she got to talking about it, but some burdens were too big to unload in the middle of a half empty bar.

"You know, this and that," she said with a vague wave of her hand. "I'm sure you know I got married."

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, news like that does tend to travel."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. It traveled, alright, traveled right back to her with wild stories of drunken orgies and dens of sin.

"Then, I'm sure," she drawled, her tone dipping low, "that you know I'm also getting divorced."

Sam's eyes widened slightly, but he gave no other indication that new fazed him. "I always knew that Brandon boy was bad news," he said, taking out a rag to wipe down the bar. "He was too dangerous for you."

"Tell me about it," Rebecca replied as she took another sip.

He smirked, "So that's what you're back for?"

Rebecca nodded, "Yeah, just… filing papers."

For a moment there was a pregnant pause of thought as Sam processed the information. He glanced up at her, his hair falling into his eyes, "If you don't mind me asking, was the decision… amicable?"

Twisting the bottle in her hands, Rebecca considered her answer. "Do you mean, is he fighting me?

He nodded.

"Yes, he's fighting me, every step of the way. And I'm sure I'll be dealing with the aftermath for years to come."

Sam pursed his lips, "I can deal with him—if you'd like."

She laughed, that was classic Sam, protecting the damsel in distress—always playing the white knight.

"No, Sam," she replied, "I'm perfectly capable of dealing with him on my own." She reached over and patted his arm, "But I appreciate the offer."

He held up his hands in defeat, but gave her a meaningful look that said the offer would stay on the table. Rebecca leaned over the bar and continued to nurse her beer, watching Sam take and bus orders. The bar seemed oddly empty for the evening, and Sookie was nowhere in sight. Was business bad for Sam? Had he gotten into some kind of trouble? Oddly enough, it wouldn't have surprised Rebecca. Sam's hero complex was bound to get him into some kind of trouble, eventually.

She stayed until well past sunset, ordering a second beer when hers ran dry and reliving old memories with Sam in between orders. Here, with the smell of artery- clogging food wafting in the air and a cold beer nestled between her fingertips, Rebecca could almost believe her problems had dissipated for the evening—almost.

Brandon strolled through the door as he did any other establishment—like he owned the place. It was his confidence that had first attracted Rebecca to him, his complete assurance. Now, as she saw him in the mirror behind the bar, she recognized it as a kind of cockiness, an arrogance that made his features sharp and ugly. He stopped at the threshold, hands on his hips, one booted foot tapping against the floorboards. But this was not the man Rebecca had married—the Brandon she loved was cock-sure, yes, but never had she seen the feral expression cloud over his face. Never had she thought him capable of doing her any harm.

Scuttling around the far edge of the bar, Rebecca dropped to all-fours and crept towards the kitchen. She just had to get to the back entrance before Brandon sniffed her out. Then, she could drive like hell to Sookie's and hide out there until sunrise.

Sam pushed through the door just as she was reaching out to open it, nearly falling over her in the process.

"What the—," he grumbled, but Rebecca cut him off by placing a finger desperately to her lips. She jerked her head towards the entrance and watched as his eyes followed her motion and widened. Giving him an imploring look, Rebecca scuttled past his feet and into the kitchen where Lafayette was dancing around, cooking meet on the stove.

"Hey girl!" He called.

"Shh!" Rebecca hushed him, knowing that Brandon would hear her if she spoke. Lafayette gave her a quizzical look as she crawled to the back door. "I'll explain later," she mouthed before slipping out into the humid night air.

Creeping as quietly as she could manage, Rebecca ducked behind the bar and around Sam's trailer to the side lot where she'd parked her car. Pulling the keys out of her pocket, she palmed the now useless house and storage keys, slipping her car key between her first two fingers.

After unlocking her passenger's side door, she slid across the console and shoved the key into the ignition. Fearful that Brandon would hear and recognize the sound of her engine turning over, Rebecca eased the car into neutral and allowed it to roll to the far end of the lot and out into the street. Once she was safely into the street, she started the car and, watching in the rear-view mirror for signs that Brandon knew her intention, headed for Sookie's. She left the radio off, slowly and systematically increasing her speed until she was fairly flying down the narrow roads.

There was no telling when Brandon would catch on, so Rebecca ignored the speed limits, pushing sixty in a thirty five. Four half a second, the thought that she might crash zinged through Rebecca's head, but she quickly dismissed the fear that came along. An escape was an escape—even if it involved her death—though she certainly didn't have a death wish. Her wanting to live was the catalyst behind her messy divorce with her husband.

Sookie's house appeared from around a bend in the road, reflecting like a beacon in the pale moonlight. Rebecca gunned the engine, her heart pounding hard in her chest—out of relief or desperation, she didn't know. All that mattered was getting inside that house, alive, woundless.

The gravel flew out from behind her tires as she zoomed down the driveway. She slammed the brakes, opening the door before the car had even stopped. Pulling the key from the ignition, Rebecca threw herself out of the car just as a caustic hiss sounded from the far end of the road.

Letting out an involuntary shriek, Rebecca stomped up the stairs, flung open the screen door, and shoved into the house without invitation or preamble. So great was the force of her movements that her body fell to the floor just inside the door. She scrambled to the staircase and watched, wide-eyed as Brandon slammed into the protective wall surrounding the house.

Her breath was coming in strangled gasps, but she managed not to scramble any further away and the stare down a man that she once loved as he viciously clawed in search for her life.

"Oh, my Gawd," came a voice in an accent she had worked desperately to dissolve in her own voice.

Craning her neck to see around the corner, Rebecca gave one of her best friends a smile. "Sorry to drop in uninvited, but I had a little problem."

Sookie looked to the door and back, "I can see that."

Rebecca pulled herself to her feet, dusted off her jeans, and held open her arms. "What? No hug?"

She had expected Sookie to be completely unnerved by the prospect of having a vampire in full blood-lust slamming at her door, but the (she now realized) grown woman surprised the hell out of her by calmly walking to the door, slamming it, and embracing her. Rebecca chuckled as she squeezed her arms around her friend, freezing when she glanced over Sookie's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said as she pulled back. "I didn't realize that you had company."

Sookie smiled, "Guess I've just as much explaining to do as you." She took Rebecca's hand, "Rebecca, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Bill Compton, and Eric Northman, Bon Temps Sheriff."

The title ticked off several memories and association, and since Eric wasn't in uniform—and his skin was deathly pale-Rebecca assumed both were vampires. Trying to keep her heart from dropping into her stomach at the prospect of hopping out of the frying pan and into the fire, Rebecca took each of their hands in greeting.

Sookie looked on in approval, "So," she said, "What was that all about?"

Rebecca let out a long-suffering sigh, "It's a long story."

"I've got time."

Bill cleared his throat lightly and Eric crossed his arms, leveling a glare at Sookie. She returned his dark look, "You know what, she's been through a lot today. Your little squabble can wait." Her tone was firm, though her eyes were soft. She led Rebecca to the couch. "What happened?"

Rebecca hesitated, "I don't know how to start," she said, her voice breaking hard as her shoulders slumped.

Sookie rubbed Rebecca's arm soothingly, "Well, let's start with 'who was that?' and work our way back from there."

Rebecca smirked, at least Sookie's problem solving tactics hadn't changed—still storming into the midst of things and flying by the seat of her pants. "My husband, soon-to-be ex-husband."

Sookie's eyes went wide, "Brandon! He's been turned?" Rebecca nodded. "No way!"

"Yes, way," Rebecca countered, leaning heavily on the arm of the couch. "The long and short of it is that Brandon was bitten and changed about ten months ago. I tried to be calm, cool, and collected about it—I really, really tried, Sook—but he changed—in his personality, I mean." She felt a well of pain crack, tears forming in her eyes.

Sookie grabbed a tissue and handed it to Rebecca, who took it gratefully.

"Thanks," she sniffed. Conscious of the other occupants of the room, Rebecca chose her next words carefully. "It was difficult, but I thought we were working through it. I mean, he's still my husband, even if he's not exactly human any more. But, last week, he just…"

"Go on," Sookie urged.

Rebecca shook her head, "I think it would be better if I show you."

Sookie nodded, taking both Rebecca's hands, who steeled herself, allowing only the most important memories of her marriage fall forward. She felt Sookie's gasp as she showed her the beatings, the rape, the biting, her visit to the hospital after Brandon took too much. It was all there; every tear, every scar, every hurtful word, up until she broke down and packed up at sunrise to come to Sookie.

"You know he always had a temper," Rebecca said in way of explanation as Sookie caught her breath and wiped at the tears in her eyes. Bill was instantly at her side, Eric watching on with interest.

Sookie waved him off, "I'll be fine, Bill. I just need a moment." Nevertheless, Bill carefully held Sookie to his chest, rocking her a bit and whispering soothingly in her ear. It was scene Rebecca had one hoped to have again, once Brandon had control over his baser urges. She held her brimming tears in check, knowing it was useless and petty to cry over something that should be beautiful.

Eric stepped forward, "This Brandon's maker, he or she left Brandon to fend for himself?"

Rebecca shook her head, "No. Brandon was always very strong-willed. He wouldn't even tell me who it was, just said he didn't need his maker and that he'd take care of himself."

"And where was his Sheriff?"

Rebecca cocked an eyebrow, "I don't know, where were you?"

Sookie, seeing Eric's temper flare briefly, chimed in, "Rebecca lives about fifty miles north of here."

Eric, who had gone very still, seemed mollified, "If you'll excuse me, I have some important matters to attend to." He moved to the door in the blink of an eye, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll expect you, Sookie, at Fangtasia tomorrow night. Bring your friend."

**What'dya think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2!** **A little more of our favorite Viking in this one!**

Reviews=LOVE!

Rebecca woke to the smell of frying bacon wafting through her room from the kitchen downstairs. She rolled groggily from the bed, wincing at the sore and aching muscles—a result of the previous night's activities. After washing the sleep from her eyes, she trudged downstairs and into the kitchen where Sookie was cooking over the stove.

"Good morning!" she chirped, "Or, rather, good afternoon. You slept like a rock last night." She set a plate in front of Rebecca before taking a seat with a plate of her own. "I figured you'd be hungry."

In fact, Rebecca was ravenous, but she just barely scraped up the poise to not attack the mouthwatering concoction of artery-clogging goodness before her. Instead, she picked up a fork and shoveled some eggs into her mouth, savoring the flavor.

"You always did make the best food," she commented, chewing quickly.

Sookie scoffed, "Not like Gran. There was some kind of magic in her cooking, I swear."

Rebecca nodded, glancing around the kitchen, "Where is Gran? I haven't seen her in forever it feels like."

Sookie went very still, her hands falling to her lap. "Rebecca, there's something I need to tell you, about Gran." There was a pause, then, "She died, a couple of weeks back. She was murdered."

Almost choking on her eggs, Rebecca stared at her friend, wide-eyed. It seemed impossible that such a strong, independent woman could be cut down so easily. She blinked, Sookie was watching her face closely, looking for signs that she would snap—a habit garnered from childhood.

"I'm so sorry," she managed finally, lamely. "And I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you through that."

Sookie tilted her head slightly, a curl falling over her shoulder, "I guess I could say the same to you."

Rebecca acknowledged the statement for what it was—a friend's apology—and continued to eat the, now tasteless, breakfast. When she was finished, she got up to wash the dish, recognizing Gran's handiwork around the house. The cracked tile from where Jason had punched the wall was fixed, and the scratches left from the time she brought her new kitten to the house were painted over. It was like Gran had put pieces of herself into the little nooks and crannies all over the house, infusing the place with her love and strength.

It also seemed like she had been gone long enough that Rebecca's mark on the town had been swept away—an almost impossible task in a town that feared change so vehemently. And yet, there it was. The untouchable Sookie Stackhouse had grown into a beautiful young woman, had finally gotten a steady boyfriend. Tara was working at Merlottes (so she had heard from Sam), and Sam… Well, Sam seemed to be the only one who hadn't changed a bit. Still brooding, still pining. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Pushing from the counter, Rebecca stepped to the side to allow Sookie room to wash off her dish.

"I have to go in to work today," she said, piling the dished on one side of the sink.

Rebecca crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the counter. "Yeah, about that. Listen, this thing with Brandon—me leaving him and all—Well, all I've got to my name is that car," she pointed to the driveway, "And the bag in the trunk. Long story short, I need a job."

Sookie chuckled, "Well, I'm sure Sam would be glad to have the extra help, as we can't seem to keep waitresses around for long. I can't say much about the pay, but you, obviously, can stay here until you get back on your feet."

Rebecca nodded, grateful. She only hoped her divorce would go over swiftly, and that she could make a fresh start in a town she felt at home in—no matter how long she'd been gone.

After gathering her meager belongings from her car, Rebecca changed out of her dirty clothes from the previous night and headed to Merlotte's with Sookie. The bar was filled with the Church crowd, filling their stomachs after an hour and a half of filling their spirits. Sam was rushing from the kitchen with a fierce look on his face and Rebecca briefly reconsidered asking him for a job. She looked to Sookie for guidance, but the woman just slipped on an apron and pushed her towards the bar.

Walking cautiously around the milling crowd, Rebecca stepped up to the opening on the side and drummed her fingers against the wood. Sam continued to rush to and fro, filling drinks and taking orders. His pants were stained with ketchup and his shirt was un-tucked and wrinkled. The man clearly needed a break.

"Hey Sam!" She called over the noise.

He looked up and attempted to smile, but barely managed a grimace. "I'm a little busy right now, Rebecca."

"I know, that's kind of my point, actually." She rolled her shoulders nervously. "I kind of need a job."

Sam set a beer on the bar, wiping his hands with a towel. He stepped up to her and leaned on an elbow, "You need a job."

"Yes. I haven't waited tables since—well, since the last time I worked here. But I did okay, didn't I?" Unrepentantly, she gave her best pout. "Please, please, please…"

When Sam lowered his eyes, she knew she'd won. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arm around him and hugging him over the bar between them.

Sam shrugged out of her grasp, "Now, don't go gettin' all excited. I expect you to be on time and work hard. I won't be lenient."

It was a complete lie, but Rebecca nodded anyways, smiling all the while. She bounced a few times on the balls of her feet, then turned to get an apron.

"I'll take tables 4-7. They're still the same, right?"

Sam nodded mutely, shaking a rag out and wiping down the wood of the bar. Rebecca smiling at Sookie as she slid into the back hallways and picked up a pad and pen, pulling an apron off the hook and tying it around her waist on the way out.

Tables 4, 5, and 6 were uncharacteristically empty, so Rebecca strolled over to table 7 and held up her hand in greeting. "Hey there, I'm Rebecca and I'll be your waitress for the evening. What can I get you?"

And so it went for hours until the sun had set well below the horizon and Sookie's shift ended. Feet aching and head pounding, she slumped into a booth to count her tops. The crinkled bills slid roughly between her fingertips as she counted slowly to one hundred and eleven dollars, fifty-two cents. She stood and folded the bills in half, shoving them into her jeans, and dropping the change into the tip jar on the bar.

Sookie slipped on a light jacket, saying, "How'd you do?"

"Not bad," Rebecca replied. "If it keeps up, I'll be out of your house in less than a month."

Sookie reached for her hand, "You know you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

Rebecca smiled, "I know. And I'm grateful."

They ventured outside, the cooler night air making Rebecca wish she'd brought the sweatshirt she'd stuffing her bag. She crossed her arms and suppressed shiver, watching her feet as they crunched over the gravel.

When they reached Sookie's car, she noticed a shiny new compact sitting beside it. The door opened and Bill stepped out, opening his arms for Sookie to sink into.

"How was work?" He asked, placing his hands around her waist.

Sookie leaned back in his embrace, smiling, "About the same. Got a new waitress." She indicated Rebecca with a nod.

Bill smiled, "Congratulations, Rebecca."

"Thank you," she replied, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

Bill nodded, and then turned his attention back to Sookie. "Eric is expecting us."

Sookied rolled her eyes, sighing, "Do we really have to? I don't know about you, but I've seen enough of Eric these days."

"I am in total agreement. However, I don't think it would be prudent to upset him when you are asking for his help." He gave Rebecca a meaningful glance.

Sookie sighed again, flicking the hair from her eyes, "Alright, but it doesn't mean I'll like it."

Rebecca cleared her throat, "Look, if this is going to be a problem, I'll handle Brandon myself."

"You most certainly will not!" Sookie shot back. "He's a vampire under Eric's jurisdiction," she said firmly. "The Sheriff will handle him."

Stunned by Sookie's ire, Rebecca nodded, following her to Bill's car. She slid in, admiring the understated, but elegant interior. The car still held that new smell and Rebecca decided that it was just a formality. Bill could very well fly wherever he wanted—and at fantastically fast speeds. He didn't need to cruise through town in a V8.

As they left the main road of Bon Temps, Rebecca noticed a steady influx of cars on the road. The town that seemed to have a curfew of ten pm was slowly coming alive. There were light she shouldn't remember ever being there, stores and gas stations that had popped up over the last five years that proved to her that life had, indeed, moved on without her.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Rebecca couldn't help but to raise a brow. The crowd frequenting this club was definitely not something she thought she'd ever see in the sleepy town. Women wearing skin tight mini-skirts and high heels, men wearing leather pants and spikes. It was the veritable underground of the city, lit up for with bright, flashing lights.

Rebecca eased out of the car, wiping her hands on her jeans. She was clearly underdressed. Again, she looked to Sookie for guidance, seeing that her friend couldn't have cared less about what she was wearing; she merely shouldered her purse and began the short march to the door.

Gathering her strength, Rebecca filed in behind, refusing to drop her chin to the curious and scathing glances from the other guests. As the roped entrance, Sookie had to pause but for a second before her was let by. However, when Rebecca tried to fall in behind, a cool hand stopped her.

"Just where do you think you're going?" a softly accented voice asked.

Rebecca nodded to Sookies back, "I'm with her."

Sookie, having noticed Rebecca wasn't following, craned her neck, "Let her through, Pam."

The blonde cocked a hip, "We can't just let anyone in just because they're with you. We have a business to run."

Rebecca opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Sookie saying, "Eric's expecting us. All of us. I don't think you want to keep him waiting."

Pam seemed to contemplate her options, finally deciding to sneer and lift the rope.

Rebecca slid past the woman, wincing as she let out a sharp growl. Her stomach rolled as she realized just what kind of club Sookie had taken her to. Instantly on alert, Rebecca scanned the room for Brandon, or anyone he could have possibly hired to take her down. There was no telling what would happen, she could feel her heart begin to pound rapidly in her chest.

They moved through the crowd with some difficulty, the blaring music and copious amounts of alcohol forced the room to pulse with writhing bodies and heat. The air was coating her exposed skin with sweat and booze, her head spinning for lack of oxygen.

At the back of the room stood a platform on which Eric was sitting. Even from across the club, he was clearly visible, looking bored, and texting on his phone. Rebecca eased past a couple of dancers, trying to keep up with Bill and Sookie, who seemed to be able to slide through the milling masses without getting hung up and caught on stray limbs and hands.

Finally, she was able to stumble through the outside perimeter of the crowd, breathing hard and pushing fallen hair from her neck. She nodded to Sookie, then turned to Eric, who wore a bemused expression on his face.

"So, what can I do for you?" he asked lightly, his head tilting ever so slightly.

Not sure of the exact protocol for the situation, Rebecca remained silent, her eyes flicking to Sookie to provide the explanation.

"I'd like for you to reign in one of the vampires under your control," Sookie responded with confidence.

Eric, who had been scrutinizing Rebecca, turned his attention to Sookie. "And why would I do that?"

"Because, you're the Sheriff, and he is attacking innocent humans," she snapped.

His cool gaze returned to Rebecca, "Are you innocent?"

Not knowing how to answer, and growing ever more nervous with her surroundings, Rebecca stubbornly remained silent, her brows coming together tightly.

"You weren't so silent last night," he mused, "It is a simple question. Are you innocent?"

Rebecca swallowed, "It depends on your definition of innocent."

There was a beat of silence, then, faster than she could blink, he was standing right in front of her, his height towering above her, and his expression fierce.

"What did you do to become his enemy?"

Rebecca scoffed, "I left him."

Eric blinked slowly, "Really?"

"Really, really."

He continued to look at her, long enough that she was beginning to squirm. Then, "You were married?"

Taken back, Rebecca wondered just where his questions were going. She nodded mutely.

"And he was turned," he continued, stepping around her, circling to her back.

Rebecca straightened her spine, forcing her body not to tremble with her growing fear. He was testing her, she felt, gauging her strength by becoming what he naturally was, a predator. Again, she nodded.

"And you left him because he was no longer your husband."

Rebecca gave a sharp shake of her head. "No, well, yes, in a way. He was still my husband, but even you could not condone the right of a husband to abuse his wife, no matter the circumstances."

He leaned in, the strands of his hair brushing against her cheek, "Are you so sure about that?"

Gritting her teeth, Rebecca inhaled, "Absolutely."

When he pulled away, he wasn't smiling. "If he comes after you again, I will speak with him. Until that time, I see no reason to interfere."

Rebecca's jaw dropped, "No reason? You were there last night, you saw him attack me. I'd say that's a pretty damn good reason."

Eric's face darkened menacingly, "I saw nothing but you flying uninvited into Sookie's house and interrupting our meeting."

His growling tone sent a tremor of fear straight to Rebecca's gut, but she steadfastly ignored it, refusing to be cowed by him. She'd been outdone by Brandon yet again, and he wasn't even in the room.

Tired of moving around red tape, Rebecca gave a nod to Sookie, and sneer to Eric, before turning on her heel and stepping back into the crowd. Obviously, going to the Sheriff was as useless as going to the police. All they cared about was the fact that Brandon rarely left marks and that no one (human) even caught him in the act.

She pushed past sweaty dancers, slapping at groping hands, until she reached the other side. The air in the club thinned as Rebecca marched to the exit, the thin layer of sweat over her brow cooling her skin. Inhaling, she slipped out the front door and into the dim light of the parking lot.

Pam still stood at the roped entrance, critiquing the passerby and letting occasional guests in. Rebecca shook her head and tried to step past the vamp, but Pam caught her by the arm.

"Leaving so soon?" She drawled.

"Yeah" Rebecca replied, "Your Sheriff wasn't any help."

Pam rolled her eyes, smirking, "How very naive of you to think he would. You are human, after all."

Rebecca allowed herself a sneer, but otherwise didn't reply. She'd had enough of the arrogance of the vampire—having had Brandon tell her just how lowly she was on the food chain over and over. If Eric wouldn't help her, she was just going to have to move to the other side of the scale, and see if the anti-vampire movement would take care of her problem.

As she reached the car, Rebecca realized that she had a more immediate dilemma—getting home. Groaning, she pulled at her hair a bit, squaring her feet and staring the machine down, willing it to turn on. If only she knew how to break into and hotwire a car. It was a skill she had been meaning to pick up, but hadn't had the opportunity. She huffed, leaning on the hood, knowing she would just have to wait.

Unfortunately, the car had other ideas. It began to squeal in alarm, adding insult to injury for the evening. Going red in the face, Rebecca glanced at Pam, who was chuckling outright at the door. She glared, but stepped away from the car and sat on the curb of the lot, resting her now-aching head in her hands.

From somewhere across the lot, she heard Sookie's voice, calling out her name. Embarrassed and frustrated, she didn't answer, choosing to sit and wait in silence. Sookie's feet appeared in her line of sight, her knees bending to crouch.

"Hey, are you okay?" She cooed.

Rebecca nodded, holding in the emotions welling in her throat.

Sookie helped her up, leading her to the car. The door unlocked as she leaned down and Rebecca glimpsed Bill approaching. She kept her head down, sliding into the car. Even now, after five years on her own, she was still depending on Sookie to make things better—from funerals to domestic abuse, there was nothing too complex for Sookie to figure out and run to the rescue.

The ride back to Merlotte's was spent looking out the window as Sookie and Bill argued about Eric's rights and responsibilities as Sheriff. It didn't really matter. He had refused to help, leaving her to turn to an unstable group of people as a result. She didn't remotely agree with the Fellowship of the Sun's doctrine, but she saw no other way to protect herself from Brandon—at least at night.

Bill opted to drop Rebecca off at Sookie's house directly, and when they pulled up into the driveway, Rebecca gave Bill a small goodbye, then trudged into the house. Her room was dark, but Rebecca found that she really didn't want to feel like she could be seen at the moment—she left the lights off.

Flopping down on the bed, Rebecca opened a small pouch she kept on her bedside table, pulling a crumpled business card from the side. She hesitantly picked up the phone, and dialed. It rang a few times before a sultry voice made a greeting.

"Hi," Rebecca said, "I'd like to make an appointment."

**Dun, dun, duuuuun! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter three for your reading pleasure, along with an introduction of a favorite character. **

She felt like a teenager, sneaking out of her house while trying not to wake her parents. Rebecca stepped gingerly down the stairs, wincing with every creak in the aged wood. It was ridiculous to say the least that she was slipping out of the house just before sun-up to meet with the Pastor of the local Fellowship church but it was necessary. Sookie would never forgive her for what she was about to do, no matter how long they had been friends. She was consorting with the enemy.

Sliding out the door, Rebecca hustled to her car, easing it into neutral and rolling it to the road. Once she was a safe distance away, she turned the engine over and sped away to the outskirts of Bon Temps and into Shreveport. As she drove, she thought about turning around and going back to bed, leaving it for the government to worry about. Almost immediately, she dismissed the thought, knowing it would be no use.

She could still see the resigned stares of the officers as they filled out report after report, their snide remarks—fangbanger—their knowing looks. No, she couldn't go to the police, or the government. The only way to handle it was to take care of Brandon, herself. Eric was no use either—much to Sookie's disappointment—and that left the Fellowship of the Sun.

Turning in to the parking lot, Rebecca cringed as she glanced over the ostentatious church, the gilded crosses and gaudy jeweled plaques. There were cars far more expensive than hers parked in neat rows along the front. She pulled to a stop in a spot far way, almost ashamed of the dented body of her Ford P.O.S. Shaking, she stepped out of the car and straightened her blouse.

That morning, she had done her best to look presentable for her meeting, taking extra time with her hair and makeup, yet she still felt underdressed. Squaring her shoulders, she gathered all the courage in her body, and stepped boldly to the entrance, ducking inside.

The sanctuary, much like the outside, was richly decorated with tapestries and lush fabrics, and the pews were each engraved with scenes from the Bible—Adam and Eve in the garden, Abraham with his son on the altar, knife raise; Satan tempting Christ in the desert…It was all pointed to the Will of God being taken on and performed by the poor sinners. And, at the front (or was it the back?) of the church stood the crest of the Fellowship, along with an anti-vampire sign. Clearly, Rebecca was in the right place.

After a few moments, an older man came through one of the side doors.

"Welcome, Rebecca, I'm so glad you had a safe trip."

Rebecca smiled, despite the shiver of unease. "Thank you," she replied, taking the man's too-hot hand. "I appreciate your taking the time to see me."

"I'm always glad to help shepherd one of God's sheep." He motioned that they should sit in one of the pews. "I am Pastor Clark, what may I do for you?"

Rebecca recounted her story, and Pastor Clark nodded, patting her hand occasionally.

"That is a very grave matter, and God has blessed you for your escape." He shifted, adjusting his jacket. "We have… sources that may track down you ex-husband, but it will take time."

Rebecca nodded, "I'm willing to do what it takes, as long as I have your assurance that something will be done."

Pastor Clark smiled, "Of course, Rebecca. Don't worry, God protects His faithful."

As she walked back to her car, fingering the silver necklace Pastor Clark had given her, Rebecca wondered just that she had done. Brandon was dangerous—feral, even—and she'd just sent a fanatical group of human beings after him. She shook her head, it was done, now; no point in crying over it. All she cared about was moving Brandon completely out of her life, by any means necessary.

Starting her car, Rebecca pulled from the parking lot, slipping the necklace in her glove compartment. Her shift would start in half an hour and she knew Sam would be upset if she showed up late. If she wanted to be out of Sookie's house by the end of the month, she needed this job.

Merlotte's was mostly empty, save a few cars owned by the employees. Sam was already in his office when she walked in the back door, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

"Hey Rebecca," he called through the open door.

"Rebecca leaned on the doorframe, "Yeah, Sam?"

He motioned her inside, closing the door behind her. "Look, I know this thing with Brandon is going to be hard."

Rebecca's eyebrows rose, unsurprised that Sam was going to go down that road. Still, she held her position, waiting for him to finish.

"I can tell he's going to be trouble and I just wanted you to know… I'm here for you."

Rebecca looked away. Sam touched her shoulder, giving her an understanding look.

"Thanks, Sam. I'll keep that in mind." She brushed off his hand, unwilling to be another one of his charity cases.

"Okay," he said, stepping back. "I guess you should get to work."

Rebecca tapped her foot, stepping into the hall, "I guess I should."

Working through her shift with as much intensity as she could muster did not dissolve the thoughts of the chain sitting idly in her glove compartment. It was entirely possible that she'd just made a really, really bad decision. The Fellowship looked good on the surface, but she'd heard that they used less than noble methods to get what they wanted. However, the decision _had_ been made, and there was nothing she could do about it anyway.

Sookie came in late into Rebecca's shift, her face all smiles. Merlotte's was growing busier, but they chatted in front of the kitchen and behind the bar when they could. She and Bill were going out dancing that night, and she wouldn't be home until the next day. The information dropped like a stone in Rebecca's stomach, leaving her dry mouthed, but she smiled and wished her a good night, escaping into the kitchen.

Lafayette was standing at the grill flipping a burger and dancing to a softly-playing rock song on the radio.

"Hey sweetness," he called, dunking a batch of fries into boiling hot grease.

Rebecca leaned against the prep table, folding her arms across her chest, "Hey, hon. How's the kitchen running?"

Lafayette snorted, "Shitty, as usual. But money's money."

"I hear ya," Rebecca replied, watching as he arranged food on the plate and placed it in the window.

"Order up!" He called. Then, he gave Rebecca his full attention. "What's wrong, sweetness?"

She sighed, "Can I stay with you tonight. Sook's going out and, given the recent events, I don't want to be alone."

Lafayette sauntered over, "I heard about Brandon—."

"God, who hasn't? It's like my whole life is laid out for the entertainment of the masses."

"You can blame Arlene for that. She works fast."

Rebecca chuckled, "I had forgotten that. So, is it okay? It'll only be one night."

Lafayette smiled, "Bitch, you know I love you. My house is your house. And if ya get cold, I'll be there to keep you warm.: He waggled his eyebrows.

"Lafayette," Rebecca replied in amusement, "I don't think I'm really your type."

He gripped her hips, "Honey, everyone is my type. Besides, I'd never pass up that ass." He playfully slapped at her thigh.

Rebecca squealed, shuffling away and into the hall. "Thanks, Lafayette."

"No problem," he replied as Arlene placed another order on the wheel.

Feeling slightly better, Rebecca went about finished her shift. There were more tables to wait, and her tips were pretty decent that night. If it keep up, she might be able to put the first and last month's rent down in the next two weeks. Things were looking up.

Lafayette's house had changed drastically over the last five years, growing ever more eclectic and cluttered. She set her bag down on the couch and turned in a slow circle, taking everything in.

Lafayette flopped on the couch, flipping on the TV and opened his palms, "have a seat, haven't heard much from you since you left—thought you might-a forgotten 'bout little ol' me."

Rebecca shook her head, "I could never forget about you, it would be impossible."

She sighed, leaning on the arm of a near-by chair. "You know Brandon didn't like you."

"Yeah, and I hated him—always thought he was son-of-a-bitch and didn't deserve you." He reached behind him and pulled out a surprisingly large bag of weed.

"Well, you can't blame him, really, you did break his nose."

Lafayette smirked, sprinkling the weed inside of a gently folded cigarette paper, slowly rolling it between his first two fingers. "He deserved it, fuckin' pansy-ass."

She nodded, "I know, I know."

"He never hit you again, did he?"

Rebecca shook her head, "No, not while he was alive."

Lafayette paused, his tongue barely touching the paper, "You got out. 'S all that matters."

"Yeah," Rebecca said solemnly.

He finished rolling the joint, then lit it, inhaling deeply. "So, whatcha gonna do now?"

She shrugged, "I guess I'll work at Merlotte's for a while, until I can get back on my feet."

Lafayette handed her the joint, "You can always make some money with you own website. There are a whole slew of people here who would pay big money to see you naked."

Rebecca inhaled on the joint, enjoying the burning sting as it filled her lungs, "I'll think about it," her tone sarcastic.

"Just saying," Lafayette replied, "I make bank off-a this sweet body."

Rebecca laughed, feeling the head change begin—something she hadn't done since before her wedding. "I bet." She handed the half smoked joint back to Lafayette. "I see you're still dealing. Is that mayor still coming to see you weekly?"

He nodded, "Senator, now. Pay's good. 'Course, the money's doubled—got something stronger for him."

Rebecca held up her hands, "I don't want to know. The less I know the better."

"Too right, Becky, too right."

She winced, "It's Rebecca now," she whispered.

Lafayette sent her a hard look, leaning back into the cushion of the couch, "He did a number on you, didn't he?"

She shrugged, "He was turned, Lafayette, you know what that does to people. He wasn't himself anymore, anything gentle and good about his disappeared with the heartbeat." She laughed caustically, "I guess he lost his heart." The thought sent her into a fit of giggles the belied her actual hatred of her estranged husband.

Lafayette hurled himself off the couch, stumbling just the slightest bit. Or maybe it was the weed, her vision suddenly seemed more blurry than usual, her head drifting listlessly. "Jesus, man, what the fuck is that stuff?"

He chuckled, "That, Rebecca, is my private stash. Good shit." He had inserted a CD into a stereo player, a smooth R&B song filtered through the speakers. Rebecca watched him through slatted eyes, her hands running over the soft and supple material of the armchair. Her skin was tingling and the music pulsed in slow waves over her. God, she had missed this feeling.

Lafayette laid back down, fanning himself with an ornately put together fan, and Rebecca's head rolled back to slump against the arm of the chair—she hadn't felt herself slouch into a more comfortable position.

"'S good shit, Lafayette," she murmured, feeling the buzz build into something mellow and yet, at the same time, crisp. She could feel every molecule of her body, moving in synchronized patterns to run her involuntary functions—the press of her eyelashes as she blinked lazily, the shifting of her hair as a nearby fan blew the strands array.

Distantly, she heard Lafayette exhaled loudly, "That it is, sweetness. It's laced with something special. Be careful, though, it sneaks up on you."

Barely hearing the end of his sentence, Rebecca felt a kind of listless darkness melt over her form. She was dreaming, she thought, but couldn't prove it. There were melting colors everywhere and warmth that sunk into her very bones. Christ, was she flying?

Rebecca rolled over, shading her eyes from the glaring light that shone through the open curtains. She lifted her torso, wondering how she'd ended up on the floor and scrutinizing her memories of her dreams. They blurred together, featuring nothing and everything at the same time.

Lafayette was nowhere to be seen, his spot on the couch empty. Rebecca reached up clumsily to turn the alarm clock on the coffee table around, then screamed. She had ten minutes to clean up and get to Merlotte's for her shift.

Uttering at least fifty difference oaths in three languages, Rebecca yanked her hair tie out and finger combed her hair back away from her hair, replacing the tie. She then stumbled into the bathroom and ran a towel under hot water, sloughing off last night's makeup and cleaning the dirt from her face. Running back to the living room, she stepped into her shoes and rifled through her purse for some form of makeup. All she found was a book of matches. Staring at them for a moment, she rolled her eyes, knowing she had to make due.

Pulling a match from the book, she lit it, let it burn for a second, then blew it out. As she worked, she slung her bag over her shoulder, and booked it out the front door. The streets were busy, but the sidewalks were mostly clear as she strode down towards the restaurant, stopping briefly to apply the soot-stained match to the rims of her eyes, smudging it a bit to make the mess look intentional.

When she stepped through the doors of Merlotte's she was out of breath and sweating, but she was on time. Power walking to the back, Rebecca punched her time card and leaned against the wall, trying to breathe deeply enough to supply oxygen to her burning muscles. Arlene stepped out of Sam's office, smiling brightly.

"Hey there, I love your make up, you should do the smoky look more often!"

Rebecca smiled tiredly, before pushing off the wall to prep before her shift. Lafayette called to her from the kitchen. "You look a mighty wreck, there, girl."

"Yeah," she replied, "No thanks to you."

Lafayette shrugged, "If I remember correctly, you used to be able to hold your shit together."

Placing her hands on her hips, Rebecca stared him down, "And if I remember correctly, that wasn't your usual shit. What did you lace it with?"

"Just the tiniest bit of opiates," he replied, cutting open a chicken breast, "To take the edge off."

Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, "Could you have at least let me know."

Lafayette sighed, "Look, I'm sorry. I just figured you'd already know, given our history."

She looked away, "I'm not that girl anymore, Lafayette. I changed, I had to. You know he didn't like it when I-,"

Lafayette slammed his hand on the table, halting her utterances. "I know what he did and didn't like." He stepped around the edge of the prep table and grasped her shoulders, "And I know that he killed parts of you that were… beautiful, free, that dreaming quality that you always had." Then, he smiled mischievously, "And I intend to bring those qualities right on back, girl."

Rebecca laughed outright, "How, by lacing my weed with opiates and not telling me?"

Lafayette shook his head, "Naw, Chiquita, I'm going to show you things you ain't never seen."

They both laughed for a bit, hugging, until Sam popped his head in the door. "I'm not paying you to love on each other, I'm paying you to work. Rebecca, let's go, Sookie's overloaded with tables, we need you out there."

After giving one last smile to her long-time friend, Rebecca headed out into the craziness that was Merlotte's main dining area. There were people at almost every table, overflowing with speech and orders and drinks. She warmed a bit; it was going to be good night.

**I know, I know, no Eric interaction in this chapter. But, believe me, its coming. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**And how, the continuing story. Lots of interaction in this chapter, and we're establishing a pattern that will probably haunt Rebecca for quite some time.  
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Sookie counted her tips as Rebecca clocked out, nodding to Sam as she grabbed her purse from beneath the bar. They were going to have a regular girls' night because Sookie felt bad about leaving Rebecca by herself the previous night. It had been so long since they had spent this much time together, and Rebecca was enjoying the fact that even though it had been several years, everything was falling back into place. Old patterns were emerging and she was beginning to feel a sense of comfort grow between them.

"How about 'Dirty Dancing'," Sookie said, folding the bills in her hand and stuffing them into her pocket.

Rebecca gave a short nod, "Sounds good. We'll make popcorn; pop open a bottle of wine, dish about Bill…"

"Rebecca!" Sookie shouted in mock embarrassment. "You know I don't kiss and tell."

Rebecca snorted, "If you stayed at his place last night, I'd hope you were doing more than kissing."

They laughed together, and Rebecca could feel a bit of the weight on her shoulders lift. The feeling only seemed to grow as she unlocked her car from the passenger's side for Sookie, turning to step around to the driver's side.

Her blood ran cold as she spotted a figure in the dark beyond the lights of the parking lot—a form she'd know anywhere. "Get in the car, Sookie," she whispered, shoving her friend towards the door.

Sookie inhaled sharply, "Is that him? Can you tell?"

"Get in the _car_, Sookie," Rebecca issued through her teeth.

The form moved, and suddenly he was feet from her, snarling. "Where's your watch dog now, Becky? Or have you decided for once not to whore for your safety."

Rebecca recoiled as if she'd been hit, the words forced from her mouth before she could think, "Fuck you, Brandon."

Brandon's eyes narrowed, "I think that can be arranged."

Suddenly, she was being thrown thirty feet away from the car, landing hard. Brandon followed close behind, yanking her to standing by her hair. "You know, I never thought you'd be so stupid, Becky, sending those fanatical assholes after me…Don't look so surprised, and don't interrupt, I've waited too long to put you in your place." He lifted her bodily so that her toes barely touched the ground, his arms like steel bands around her torso, keeping her still.

"I should thank you, though, I had so much fun draining the life out of them drop by drop, bleeding them while they cried for their God." His voice was a harsh whisper against her ear, his breath tainting her skin. Rebecca felt tears leak from her eyes as she whimpered from the images he was describing, the pain of his arms keeping the air from entering her lungs. "Is that what you're going to do? Cry for God to save you. He won't, you know, save you. He doesn't care. No one does. You're all alone, and all mine."

Rebecca felt him reach for her neck, then something snapped and the world went woozy. She felt nothing, absolutely nothing from her neck down—shit, he'd broken her spine, snapped it like a twig.

In the flash of a moment, Brandon dropped her, crying out. She landed on her back, her head turned away from whatever was happening behind her, she could hear Sookie yelling and teeth gnashing, then something metallic clinking over and over.

More snarls and growls joined in, and then she caught a flash of Brandon flying past her, his back retreating into the darkness. Then, she was being lifted gently.

"Neck's broken," Bill said kneeling next to her as Sookie cradled her gently to her chest, the fellowship's chain folded around her wrist. If Rebecca thought she could blush, she would have.

"Can you speak?" Sookie asked. Rebecca just blinked back at her, knowing she couldn't. "We have to help her. Can you-."

Bill shook his head, "I don't think that is such a good idea. She's not mine."

Sookie looked murderously over Rebecca's body, "This is your entire fault. She asked you for help and you refused. Look what he did, what you did, to her. She's completely destroyed."

It took half a second for Rebecca to compute what Sookie actually meant, but when it clicked, she wished she had the ability to bury her face into the material of Sookie's shirt in shame. Eric was there, looking at her in her worst hour, completely helpless. How human she must look to him, how disgusting.

"My apologies," he said diplomatically. "I didn't know he was this dangerous."

Sookie scoffed, "Bullshit, you knew exactly what he would do. As if her struggle wouldn't be hard enough with her separation, now she's going to be a quadriplegic on top of that. He's going to kill her next, and who would be able to stop him, seeing as you don't seem to be very efficient at it."

Rebecca tried to get a look at Eric's face, but could only see the blurry image of it in her peripheral. There was a long pause of something urgent in her body, and then she was being lifted again.

"Mind her head," Sookie said, handing her over.  
>"She's not a baby, Sookie, though she may be as helpless as one," Eric shot back, with a glare. For once, Rebecca had to agree, though she wondered just what he was doing, arranging her in his lap.<p>

It all became very clear as he bit into his wrist, the thick, sticky blood pouring out from the wound. She wished she could struggle, to pull away as he opened her jaw and set his wrist at her mouth. She wished she could stop the flow of the blood, strangely warm, from trickling down her throat. Her muscles were inert, unable to help her when her mind was rebelling against the onslaught of Eric's apology.

Her skin took on a strange tingle, her body awakening in erratic motions, fingers twitching slowly at first, and then with more frequency. All the while, Eric stared down at her with a concentrated intensity that scared her. When she was able, she shut her eyes against it, wanting to cry as a lancing heat struck through her neck. She could literally feel her spine mending itself, cells regenerating and fusing. Her breath kicked into high gear, her brain sucking every impulse, every stimulus from every nerve ending all over her body. Belatedly, she became aware of Eric's hands holding her down as she convulsed on the cool cement of the parking lot, Sookie's voice trying to calm her.

When finally the convulsions stopped, Rebecca took the chance to open her eyes, only to shut them again. Something was terribly wrong. She opened her eyes again, squinting. Everything was so bright when it had once been dim. She glanced around at shadows that really weren't there, light streaming through the trees above her as if it her daytime. And then Eric leaned over her, the blonde of his hair shimmering even in the dark.

"Can you feel anything?" He asked, looking at her with veiled interest.

Rebecca nodded, then paused, moving her head from side to side, "Holy shit," she breathed, then, "What the fuck?"

Eric leaned away, releasing her shoulders, "Vampire blood has a certain kind of healing quality."

Rebecca glanced to Sookie, who looked like she was ready to pounce on her at any moment, "Did you know about this?"

Sookie nodded, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Rebecca replied. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you. I should buy you a drink, several, in fact, for what just happened." She nodded subtly to the silver wrapped 'round Sookie's wrist.

Sookie helped her to stand, Bill and Eric standing at a distance. For a moment, it looked like they were talking, but nothing was coming out of her their mouths, their lips moving almost imperceptibly. She couldn't focus on that, though, not when everything seemed to shine like multi-faceted gems around her. "Jesus," she breathed, feeling light, almost as if she'd fly away with the barest hint of wind.

After a moment, she came back to herself, and turned to Eric. "Thank you," she said. "For…whatever you just did."

Eric tilted his head to the side, "We'll call it even."

"Even?" She furrowed her brow, "You didn't owe me anything."

He stepped forward, "You are right, I didn't, l but I shirked my duties in your case, feeling the task below me. Perhaps I needed a little reminder of what it means to be a Sheriff. Goodnight."

He was gone in a blink of the eyes, leaving Bill, Sookie, and Rebecca alone in the parking lot. "Let's go home," Rebecca said, ready to slide into bed and forget this whole thing ever happened.

Sookie took the keys from her, "I'll drive. Bill, would you like a ride home?"

Bill smiled, "I'd be delighted." There was a blur of motion, "And, I'll drive. You've had a bit of a shock tonight. You should rest."

Rebecca could tell there was something wrong the second she opened the door of the car. Everything smelled metallic, bloody. Bill was out of the car and snarling before she could scream, but she did it anyway, letting loose the howl that she'd been holding in for weeks. It burned in her throat, piercing the night around her, beautiful though it was.

Sookie was screaming, too, she noticed, as Bill held her. The whole front of the house was coated in blood, painting the picturesque porch in crimson stain. Rebecca fell to her knees, knowing exactly where the blood had come from—the Fellowship hadn't been able to take Brandon down, and they'd paid for her mistake in blood.

Before long, police cars were populating the front yard, and she was being questioned. She spoke in short, crisp sentences, and when she could, she snuck away around the back of the house, and through the back door. Trudging up the stairs, Rebecca made her way to the bathroom and flung her bag on the counter, the contents flying out over the sink. Cursing, she started to pile the massive amounts of stuff back into the tote, pausing when she came across a small wrapped package.

The little parcel, wrapped in shiny magazine paper, had a note scrawled in Sharpie marker. _To bring the dreamer back—L._ Rebecca smiled, unwrapping the gift until two small pills fell into her palm. Without thinking, she shoved the capsules into her mouth and dry-swallowed, glaring at herself in the mirror. After throwing the rest of her purse's eclectic bits back where they belong, Rebecca leaned against the sink and tried not to cry. It would be useless to do so, and she'd cried enough in the last few hours to last her a lifetime.

Sighing, Rebecca stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom she was using in the absence of a place of her own. She stared down at the bed, running her hands over the material, the feeling accentuated by whatever Eric's blood was doing to her. Everything was so intense, every feeling felt to its fullest—and now she was feeling really, really scared. Going to the Fellowship was such a bad decision that, in hindsight, she couldn't believe that she'd actually made it.

Slumping on the bed, Rebecca rubbed at her eyes, trying to relieve the stress. There was no physical hurt from Brandon's attack, but her chest ached nonetheless, knowing that she had put, _was_ putting, people in danger. First, the Fellowship, now Sookie. It had to stop.

Feeling Eric's blood pump hard through her veins, giving her body a renewed vigor, Rebecca reached under the bed to pull out her bag. She'd rent a room tonight with some of her tips and put the down payment on an apartment tomorrow. To keep Brandon away, she'd ask Sam for dayshifts and stay in every night. Sookie had Bill to help protect her, and, with Rebecca out of the house, Sookie wouldn't have to worry about more gruesome graffiti.

There was a frenzied kind of lunacy that entered her mind at running away in the middle of the night, tucking herself away in a hotel and praying for daylight. She paid it no mind, knowing she could do it, feeling almost invincible in the darkness of her room. After shoving the rest of her bare essentials into her duffel, Rebecca zipped it roughly and turned from the room peeking out into the hall to make sure Sookie wasn't anywhere nearby. She wasn't.

Stepping gingerly, Rebecca tiptoed down the hall feeling her head change with the pills she'd taken. Briefly, she wondered if she was good enough to drive, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She could see perfectly fine, could see every detail of the carpet—even the stains—and the photographs hanging on the walls. God, she felt amazing, perfect, even.

Rebecca took a deep breath on the landing of the stairs, smelling the fresh cut flowers on the dining room table, the musk of the night seeping through the open door in the front of the house. She closed her eyes, and felt her body go limp, her mind go blank. It took only half a second, but it was enough to send her forward, off balance, and tumbling down the stairs.

She hit the bottom hard, but, unsurprisingly, she felt nothing but the course of whatever high she was riding. Giggles burst from her chest, clenching her stomach and churning her mind. As she gasped for air, she had the faint notion of the possibility that she'd finally cracked, that she'd lost her mind. Everything around her swam with light and shadow, and her head was beginning to spin. Vaguely, she caught Sookie leaning over her, calling for Bill, but the pills were working fast, sending her tumbling down the rabbit hole to a place she really wasn't sure she wanted to go. Panic set in fully, forcing her skin to break out in a cold sweat, and her heart to pound forcefully in her chest.

Her breath wasn't coming in right; it seemed to stop in her throat instead of reaching her lungs. Christ, she was going to die—twice in one night. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, running down her temples as she hyperventilated on the floor of Sookie's foyer. Her body tingled at the lack of oxygen, and dark rings formed around her eyes. Things went a little fuzzy, and then hands were angling her chin upwards, forcing her to focus her attention directly in front of her face.

"Look at me, Rebecca," Eric intoned quietly.

Squinting, Rebecca parted her lips to speak, but the air wasn't there and she barely managed a squeak. Eric's eyes shone like ice, even when Sookie flipped on a light, returning to her side. He looked down at her with a sneer, the tension in his face palpable.

"This is the second time I've had to run to your aid tonight, Rebecca. It's redundant, and, to be perfectly honest, boring." He tilted her chin further back, "Breathe."

Rebecca gulped in air, the darkness fading from her line of sight, "S-sorry. I'm sorry."

Eric released her neck, his hands pressing on either side of her head as he leaned over her. "Don't apologize. It's useless. What you_ can_ do is tell me why you are lying at the foot of the stairs instead of in bed where you should be."

Rebecca blinked a few times, "I don't know."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Eric fumed, "Don't. Lie. To me."

Knowing she couldn't rat Lafayette out, Rebecca tried to sit up and was utterly unsuccessful. She flopped back down with a sigh, unable to even lift her hands to her eyes to stop the spinning as she tried to think of a way to avoid Eric's interrogation. "How did you get in here?"

"Sookie invited me in. Don't evade the question. I'll not ask again, what happened? I can feel you, Rebecca, you are… unstable."

Rebecca huffed, "Thanks, that's really nice of you. The vampire thinks _I'm_ unstable. Just fucking perfect."

Seeming having had enough, Eric leaned close, his nose brushing against hers—so close that they were sharing breaths. "What did you take, and how did you get it?"

She would have answered the question, really she would have, if she hadn't been distracted by the sensation of having him so close. He was so beautiful, his pale skin perfect, his scent mouthwatering. Rebecca inhaled deeply, he smelled like—she couldn't describe it, but she wanted more.

Eric smirked knowingly, adjusting his position to press just a little bit closer. "Rebecca," he purred, "Answer me." As he spoke, his mouth brushed against her lips with the slightest of pressures, the barest hint of a kiss. Rebecca wondered if this is what it felt like to be enthralled by a vampire—it certainly wasn't a bad experience, she could see how some women would crave it now and then. Her experiences with Brandon's seduction techniques had been nothing compared to what he was doing to her at that very moment. She was caving.

"I don't know, I'd tell you if I did." Her breath, which had momentarily regulated, was coming in soft pants against his mouth.

Eric thought for a moment, his top lip sliding along her lower, his eyes flicking to the side. Rebecca heard Sookie censuring him, calling him all kinds of names and threatening to rescind his invitation if he didn't leave her friend alone. He merely lifted a fraction of an inch and glared at Bill, "Handle your human, Bill, while I handle mine."

Rebecca took the moment to try to gather her wits. Turning over on her stomach, she grappled with the floor to get back up the stairs. It was useless to try, but she had to do something. He had a clear advantage—she was drugged twice over and probably suffering a head injury—and she knew he had no qualms with manipulating her sexually.

Eric let out a soft chuckle, reaching for her hips and lifting her easily, turning her to sit astride his thighs. "You _must_ be drugged to think you could get away so easily."

Rebecca slumped against Eric's chest, trying to still the motion of her spinning head. She let out an indistinguishable groan, slapping harmlessly at his arms, which were the only thing keeping her from collapsing back on the floor. "'S not fair," she murmured.

At this, Eric outright laughed, "When did I give you the impression that I was fair? Really, I must apologize. Now, about my question…"

"What question?"

Eric hoisted her a bit higher on his hips, moving to standing with a certain inhuman fluidity that came as naturally to him as a heartbeat did to her. "Where you got the drugs, Rebecca, you really must keep up." He placed her arms around his shoulders and secured her legs around his waist, stepping towards the stairs. For a moment, she was stunned by how easily he held her not insubstantial weight, his hands holding lightly to her thighs. As they ascended, Rebecca waved dazedly at Sookie, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, her mouth hanging open in shock. _What the fuck,_ she mouthed. Rebecca shrugged, feeling another round of giggles bubbling up.

Faster than she would have thought, she was being laid on her bed and arranged in a comfortable position. Rebecca hummed in satisfaction as she snuggled deeper into the pillows, readying herself for sleep. Eric tsked at her, tapping her cheeks to keep her awake.

"Nuh uh," he said firmly. "Where, Rebecca?" He traced her cheekbones, "I promise I'll reward your honesty."

It was a tempting offer, but Rebecca just couldn't do it. "Why do you want to know? You couldn't care less about me."

Eric considered her for a moment, "You are right, I don't care. But I also cannot continue to do business with your scattered emotions wreaking havoc on my concentration."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "Poor baby can't concentrate."

"Do not take that tone with me, Rebecca," Eric seethed.

"Or you'll what, Eric, put me in time out? I'm not your child, Eric; you can't punish me simply because I won't cooperate with you." She leveled what she hoped was a sarcastic expression at him, but only succeeded in watching him face grow very still, deadly still. She'd finally pushed him too far. Almost immediately, her fight or flight reflex kicked in, and she was trying to wrench herself across the bed to safety. Of course, he easily subdued her, using his own body weight to keep her flailing limbs from striking out at him.

"You may not be my child, but you are mine, and I will not have you undermine me with something as asinine as a question—unless you're protecting someone." His face grew curious, smirk returning to his mouth. "Who are you protecting, Rebecca?" He leaned down, and when she turned her chin away to avoid the not-quite-kiss, he traced a line down the column of her throat.

Swallowing dryly, Rebecca tried to focus, but her already drugged mind was only growing more disorganized as his mouth grazed her skin. Heat blossomed where his cool lips went, where his hands held her wrists, where his thighs pressed against her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to refocus, but instead only succeeded in allowing her other senses to take over, intensifying the experience exponentially. Her skin grew overly sensitized, her lungs filling with air that fairly tasted of him, and she might have moaned (though she couldn't really be sure).

Eric nipped at the skin below her chin with blunt teeth, "Who would warrant such stubborn refusal out of you, I wonder. Tell me."

Rebecca shook her head vigorously, hoping to dispel the feelings coursing through her body at every passing second. Eric only seemed to grow more amused, lifting to rest on his forearms.

"I'm impressed. There are those who would have given in on the floor downstairs."

She exhaled softly, "I'm not them."

"I can see that," he mused, mostly to himself. "Enlighten me, Rebecca. Who are you?"

She blinked several times, confused, "Um, Rebecca. You're Eric. I'm Rebecca. I thought I was the one who was drugged."

Eric grew frustrated again, his eyes sliding into ice. "Can you answer a simple question, or are you incapable?"

"Yes."

"To which question?"

"Either, or both."

Eric growled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and vibrating through her abdomen. She squirmed, giggling. "Tickles," she said.

"I'm glad you're amused," Eric intoned, clearly not used to having his desires thwarted.

They lay for a moment, each contemplating the other, a metaphorical circling of opponents before the next round of the fight. Every passing second forced the tension a bit higher, until Rebecca fairly writhed beneath the weight of his gaze.

Eric inhaled lightly, loosening his hold on her wrists, "You're not afraid of me."

"Not really, no, though I'm beginning to have a change of opinion."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really? How so?"

Rebecca shrugged, leaving the answer unsaid and letting him think what he wanted. She was growing more and more tired as the drugs pulled her under. It was entirely possible that the only reason she was even conscious at the moment could be attributed to her earlier intake of Eric's blood. She watched him warily, but begrudgingly allowed her mind to trace the clean lines of his shoulders, to take note of the pale contours of his face, the press of his body atop hers.

If she had the energy, she might have slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that she was wholeheartedly attracted to him, and that she really needed to get him off her and out of her life. He was an unnecessary complication in her already complicated life and she seriously didn't need to deal with his frustratingly agile manipulation of her body while Brandon loomed in the sidelines.

Eric watched the expressions cross her face with rapt fascination, "What goes on in that head of yours?"

Rebecca licked her dry lips, "Right now? Not a lot. In case you haven't noticed—."

"Yes, you're drugged. I should thank the person who gave it to you. I have a feeling you're much more amiable like this, aside from your peculiar hard-headedness." They shared a smile, and Rebecca noted that he grew even more handsome as the muscles of his face flexed and loosened.

"You should do that more often. Smile, I mean," she slurred.

Eric brushed the hair away from her forehead, making a soft noise of acknowledgment, "You should wear less make up, you hide your natural beauty."

Rebecca's eyebrows furrowed, "I don't know whether to be offended or flattered." And then she realized that she'd used a match to line her eyes that morning, the faux shadow was probably smudged all to hell from her lifetime's worth of crying that night. She sighed, guessing that she looked a completely trashed—worthy of a mug-shot that could be viral on the internet.

"Listen," she said mildly, "I'm not caving, and I'd really like to get some sleep. I have an early shift tomorrow, an appointment with the attorney, and, in case you hadn't noticed, the front of the house is covered in blood that I'll have to clean up sometime. I promise I'll be good and try to keep my emotions in check." She held up two fingers, "Scout's honor."

"You really think you're capable?" He asked.

Rebecca yawned, "Really, really."

"Prove it," he challenged. There was a beat in which he allowed her to process his words, and then he swooped down to capture her mouth in a hard kiss. Stunned, Rebecca almost didn't know how to respond, but her body picked up where her mind left off, her mouth returning the kiss fervently. She groaned, gripping his shoulders to pull him closer. He tasted like sharp cayenne; all heat with a little bit of sweetness underneath. She ran her tongue over his lower lip, slipping it between his teeth to slide against his own. It was too much and not enough all at once, she tore her mouth away to gasp for air—something she was beginning to get used to in his presence.

When she glanced back at him, she noticed that his fangs had fully extended, and that his breath was just as labored as her own. She swallowed, waiting for him to ridicule her for her inability to control herself. He seemed to be struggling with something, probably trying to get a handle on her 'havoc' on his 'concentration'.

The moment was shattered as voices drifted from down the hall. Eric was standing and smoothing his hair down from where her hands had sunk deep into the softness—she could still feel it slide over her skin. She lazily tried to rearrange her own appearance, but quickly gave up, knowing it was useless. She was going to look a wreck until she showered and dressed tomorrow, and she might as well get used to it.

Sookie strode into the room, holding her bag, "What are you doing to her?" Her voice was hard, her expression fierce.

Eric shrugged, and Rebecca was momentarily stunned by the play of muscle that went into that simple movement. He seemed to catch her interest, because he shot her a sly grin. "Nothing that wasn't warranted, Sookie. If you'll excuse me, I'm needed at Fangtasia."

Before Sookie could protest or spit more fire, he was breezing out of the room. Rebecca managed to chuckle before sleep pulled her under. As she sunk into the pillows more deeply, she wondered at Eric's oscillating mood swings, deciding to think on it more the next day.

**Reviews=Love. **


	5. Chapter 5

Here's chapter 5, more filler than anything else, but you get to meet Rebecca's lawyer and there's some Brandon interaction here. Enjoy!

The alarm clock buzzed at her bedside, throwing Rebecca out of a sound sleep. Groggily, she slapped at it until the buzzing stopped and rolled out of the sheets. The cool wooden floorboards stunned her toes and Rebecca let out a soft yelp, but forced herself to keep her feet on the floor. After adjusting to the temperature, she padded to the bathroom and turned on the taps. The sun was shining brightly through the window, the birds were tweeting on branches outside, and she felt like she'd had the most restful sleep of her life…if only her appearance matched her perky mood. Hair stood out at odd angles and the match-liner was smudged in deep circles around her eyes.

Shrugging out of her slept-in t-shirt and jeans, Rebecca stepped into the spray, reveling in the heat of the water. She washed, rinsed, and repeated until her whole body was squeaky clean, her skin loofah-ed within an inch of its life. Dirt swirled around the drain, reminding her of the previous night—Brandon's attack, Eric's rescue and subsequent interrogation. No, she would not think about it. There was already enough on her plate, and a second helping of drama just wasn't going to compute.

After dressing and applying her makeup properly for the day, Rebecca grabbed her purse from where Sookie had dropped it the previous night and made her way to the kitchen. Coffee had already brewed, set automatically for the morning, and as she poured herself a cup Rebecca thought about her appointment with the attorney. There would be a lot of paperwork, and of course she might have to face the vampire defense team that Brandon had, no doubt, paid for with the sale of their house. But she knew that the divorce would go through, there was nothing Brandon could do—she had proof of his abuse (a roll of film tucked into the back of Sookie's toilet), and a video tape already in the hands of her attorney that showed Brandon in the midst of adultery and domestic abuse.

It had been hell trying to smuggle herself and the evidence out of the house, and it was going to be hell trying to separate herself from Brandon completely. It was also necessary. If she wanted to live to see her twenty seventh birthday, Brandon had to be completely out of her life.

Checking the time, Rebecca rinsed her cup and set it in the sink to wash later. Then, she left the house, started her car, and tried to forget that this might be the first day of the rest of her life.

Sam was already raking his hands through his hair when she entered Merlotte's. "Hey!" He called, shoving bottles into the refrigerator behind the bar. "Have you seen Lafayette?"

Rebecca shook her head, "Is he late again?"

"Yeah," he replied, "He didn't even call. No one picked up his phone, but I sent Arlene over to wake him up on her way over." The sound of breaking glass halted the conversation, and Sam cursed. "Could you…"

Rebecca held up her hand, "You don't even have to ask." She made her way around the bar to help a scattered-looking waitress pick up the pieces of what looked like three orders of hamburgers and fries, complete with ketchup.

"He's goin' ta fire me, isn't he?" She whispered, tucking a curl of chestnut hair behind her hair.

Rebecca chuckled, "No, Sam's a little too soft hearted for that. I'm new, too, but I'll help you with your tables if you need it."

She looked up at her with doe eyes, "Thank you. You're so nice. Every one 'round here is just so helpful, I can't believe it."

Rebecca nodded, hauling up the serving tray with the mess piled high. "Why don't I take care of this while you go put those orders in again?"

The tiny girl nodded, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "Thanks again."

"No problem."

She guessed she should have known better than to offer to help a frazzled waitress when she was still struggling to keep up with her own tables. Today was Sookie's day off and, without her friend's advice, she was almost as much at a loss as her newest comrade. On the plus side, with the added stress, the eight hour shift passed in a blur of tables, tips, and spills, barely a blink of an eye and it was gone. Rebecca clocked out and leaned into Sam's office. He was on the phone, ranting to who she assumed was Lafayette.

When he hung up, she waved at him, "Did he give you a good excuse?"

Sam shook his head, "Got his machine. Someone better be dead. He's left us high and dry for the busiest part of our day."

Rebecca stiffened, "I thought Arlene was supposed to pick him up."

"She was," he shrugged, "He wasn't at home. Probably passed out on someone's couch again, didn't have a ride."

She nodded, stepping from the room, "I have to go." As she practically sprinted to her car, Rebecca made a mental note to use the attorney's phone to call Lafayette multiple times until she could be sure he was alright. It was ridiculous that he could be in trouble, she hadn't said a word to Eric about where she got the pills—even drugged she'd been able to keep her head. Shit, he'd better be okay. Guilt wasn't her favorite emotion, and she really didn't want to alarm Eric to her predicament, just in case Lafayette's absence was one hell of a coincidence.

Speeding the entire way out of Bon Temps and into Shreveport, Rebecca made it to the attorney's just in time to make a few calls before her appointment. The secretary was very accommodating, even with Rebecca's nervous fidgeting and repetitious dialing of the same number, her tapping fingers and cursing. By the fifth call, she gave up, leaving a message on his voicemail knowing that she was going to be worried about it and distracted for the entire meeting.

Mr. Benson called her into the office, a coolly decorated place that did nothing to soothe her worries.

"I got your package," he said. "I must say, it's pretty convincing evidence."

Rebecca nodded, "And it _is_ admissible, correct?"

This time it was his turn to nod, "And the photos?"

"I'd like to keep those private, until the court date. Its sensitive material, you understand." Rebecca waited for him to object, waited for him to say that he needed to look them over before they admitted them as evidence, but he merely nodded.

"I realize that this will be difficult for you, but I promise I will try make it easier. Now, I have some documents for you to sign. This is the official declaration of your intent to divorce your estranged husband… and this is an emergency protective order against him."

Rebecca looked them over, signing and initialing where necessary before sliding them back across the desk. "So, what does the EPO do for me? You realize that Brandon is a vampire, and that, if he wanted to, he could kill me and no one would ever be able to find him."

Mr. Benson looked momentarily stunned, but smoothed his features easily. "Rebecca, I know that he's dangerous, but with this order—if he should attack you—we can make sure the proceedings go much faster—that is…"

"If I survive. Yes, I understand." She mentally checked off her lawyer as another dead end. He wasn't going to be able to provide her with anything other than someone to take the beating Brandon's lawyer was going to dish out. "I also understand you like to have payment up front. Now, I don't have the full amount, but I do have ten percent—and I'll pay another ten percent next month, and so on and so forth until the full amount is paid." She set a wad of bills on the table between them.

He looked at it for a moment, unflinching, before pulling out another form. "The payment contract."

Rebecca signed it as well, pushing it away firmly. "So, what do we do next?"

"We wait," he said. "I'll have these forms notarized and then your husband will be subpoenaed to the specified court date."

She raised a brow, "That simple. Really?"

He shrugged, "It's simple right up until we go to the judge. I won't lie to you, there will be mudslinging, and you'll be painted as every kind of bigot, but I think you will come out the winner in this. From what I've seen, this divorce will be cut and dry, though I would consider going into witness protection afterwards."

His frank analysis was nothing short of her expectations. In fact, it was half the reason why she hired him—she didn't need anyone else patting her hand and telling her it was all going to be alright—she needed a shark.

"I have already made arrangements." A lie, but he didn't need to know her plans. The less people knew, the better for everyone involved.

On her way back to Sookie's, Rebecca stopped at the local convenience store and bought a mop with the rest of the tips in her purse. She stuffed it into her trunk and hoped Sookie had a bucket big enough to hold the water it would take to sluice the blood from the outer walls of the house. Rebecca shivered as she recalled just how the blood had gotten there and from where it came. The guilt she had so easily suppressed beneath layers of denial and convenient distractions of the day came rushing forward, pushing everything away, even the road in front of her.

But she kept driving, relying on automated moves to take her into the heart of Bon Temps, to Sookie's house. As she pulled up the drive, Rebecca could tell that there had been an attempt to scrape the coagulated mess from the siding, but there were still pinkish stains marring the ribbed wood of the house, slightly deeper rivulets coating the sideboards and in the cracks.

Setting the mop on the porch, Rebecca searched around the inside closet for the bucket, eventually finding it under the sink. She filled it with hot water and soap, heaving it through the outer door and dropping it by the nearest slash of color. Then, she picked up the mop, pulled off the plastic, and dunked it into the soapy water, wringing it out. The blood had dried overnight, so it took quite a bit of force to make progress against the grime. It took half an hour to move five feet to her right over the porch, more and an hour to clear the space to the left of the door, and three hours before she was satisfied with the results.

Rebecca wiped her brow with her pastel pink-stained forearm, surveying the front of the house from the bottom of the stairs. There were still a few spots that wouldn't ever come out, but a thick coat of paint could solve that problem easily. She nodded slowly, pleased. It was a decent day's work, shining almost clean in the fading sunlight.

From beyond the front yard, she could hear a car pulling into the drive. Rebecca turned, shading her eyes with her hand to see Sookie making her way towards the house. She dropped her supplies into the bucket and waved to her friend, shoving hair that was soaked with sweat away from her face.

"Hey!" She called, dropping her hands and watching Sookie exit the car.

"Hey," Sookie said back, hoisting a bag over her shoulder and climbing the stairs. She glanced at the walls, "You didn't have to do that."

Rebecca shrugged, "I wanted to. Besides, it's my fault they got painted anyways."

Sookie rolled her eyes, "It's no one's fault." She opened the screen door intimating that Rebecca should follow.

Rebecca followed her friend into the kitchen and poured them both a glass of sweet tea. They sat at the table, not speaking for several long minutes, each avoiding the other's eyes. Rebecca rolled the glass through her fingers, listening to the clink of the ice and watching the liquid roll over the sides.

"I don't know if this is going to last," Rebecca said, glancing up at Sookie. "I won't keep putting you in danger."

Sookie scoffed, "Danger has been creeping around me for almost a year now. I'm sure you've already heard about Rene."

Rebecca nodded, that kind of news was routinely circulated by the gossips that frequented Merlotte's, and she had heard more than one version in just the short time she'd worked there.

"It doesn't excuse me bringing this to your doorstep. I have enough money to rent an apartment and I can be out in a matter of minutes."

Sookie held up a hand, "I won't be run off by some overblown sack of cow manure. He can't come in here, and Sam will be there for you at Merlotte's. Once this whole court thing is over with, we can talk moving."

Rebecca swallowed dry, gulping down the last of her tea and standing. She wasn't very good with gratitude, but she gave Sookie a brief nod. "I have to get work, and I'll need a shower. See you tonight?"

Sookie nodded, "I'll be in with Bill a little later."

With that, Rebecca left the room, trying hard not to feel overwhelmed by Sookie's generosity.

When she stepped across the threshold of Merlotte's, Rebecca was astonished to find it absolutely full. The booths, tables, and bar were brimming with customers and the staff were scrambling to keep up with the influx of orders. Rebecca sashayed around the milling mass of people, throwing her hair into a ponytail, and signaled to Sam that she was ready to step in to her shift a little early. He pointed to the kitchen, and she hurried there to see what she could do to help.

The heat from the stoves and fryers was smothering, but she pushed through the doors and glanced around anyways. Terry was running back and forth from the serving window to place trays on it, ring the bell with a sharp slap of his hand. Not needing to be directed, Rebecca threw on an apron and went to work. She picked up the next order and slid into a complicated dance with Terry, ushering his here and there so that she could fry, grill, and arrange each plate. After a while, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, and the flush of customers became much more manageable.

After sunset Sookie came in, though it was her day off, with her boyfriend at her side, and they sat down at one of the little tables in her section. The room didn't go silent, as she expected, and it seemed that the whole of the town had become rather desensitized to Bill's strangely nondescript presence as well as could be expected. Rebecca waited on them, grabbing a little bit of conversation with her friend along the way, proud that Sookie left her strange disappearance alone for the moment. There was little to be said in a room full of the nosiest gossips in town. She left them to their respective meals.

Rebecca worked like a machine, and the steady flow of orders kept her from thinking about the happenings of the last few days. It wasn't exactly a bad thing, as Rebecca did not think she could dwell any longer on her divorce without breaking down into a nervous wreck, but it left her ill prepared for when Brandon waltzed through the front door, young woman in tow.

Rebecca watched him, stunned, through the open window, wondering what his game was. The woman hung off of him like silk, her dress cinched so that her curvy waist and bosom were on full display. It rolled her stomach to think that she was sleeping with her estranged husband, but she couldn't blame her. Brandon continued to look as daring and as dashing as she remembered, if a bit more pale. He strutted across the floor to the bar, his steps enhanced by the predatory edge that came along with his disease. Rebecca swallowed and flicked her eyes to her boss, who was watching Brandon as well, wiping down the bar with a damp rag.

They exchanged a few words that Rebecca couldn't hear over the bustle of the crowd, but she could still read Brandon's expressions very well, as his look turned stormy about thirty seconds into the conversation. She braced her arms against the window sill and turned her ears to them, trying to catch a scrap of words, hearing none. Brandon's mouth set into a firm line which she knew meant danger, and his eyes slowly moved to rest upon her frightened face. He smiled a smile full of teeth and malice, and Rebecca flinched, but held her position. He made a motion to call to her, but Rebecca saw a small hand tap him on the shoulder, calling for his attention.

Eyes wide, Rebecca watched as Sookie railed him loudly for coming into a fine establishment with trash on his arm. Flinging herself into action, Rebecca threw off her apron and scrambled out onto the floor, intending to keep Brandon from killing her best friend. She moved as fast as her sneakered feet would allow, placing her body between Brandon and Sookie, giving the woman a hard look.

"Why don't you just clear out, Brandon," Rebecca said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. It didn't always work, but she found she could sometimes pacify him.

Brandon shot her an easy grin, "But I just got here," he said, "And I have a message for you, wife."

"Not your wife, anymore, Brandon. The sooner you realize that, the better," Rebecca shot back, and mentally slapped herself. He wouldn't leave anytime soon, now.

He laughed, his mouth twisting in the arrogant way that had once attracted and now repelled her in disgust. "You go on thinking that, Becky, go on thinking you can skedaddle away on that law. Or your friends of the Sun."

Rebecca took a small step back, "What more did you do?"

"Just had a little fun. They were tasty," he said, rolling the words over his tongue like a connoisseur would a fine wine.  
>Feeling sickness rise in her stomach, Rebecca shook her head, "It won't help your case."<p>

Brandon smirked, "On the contrary, it won't help_ your_ case, when I tell the judge you tried to have me killed."  
>"At least I didn't actually bring <em>you<em> to the brink of death, Brandon. I spent a month in the hospital and have the records to prove it. You won't get your way, not in this." Rebecca felt a fire start in her body, felt her anger rage against the confines until she was positively boiling with the hate that she felt for him. If she thought she might be able to cause him some kind of pain, she would have slapped that cold smile off his gleaming teeth, and sent him running home with that woman—who still draped over him lazily. Glamour.

Brandon, knowing he could not do much to harm her in a room full of witnesses and Sam's rifle out of its casing and suddenly pointed at his head—close enough that he might not be able to bat it away in time—stepped away, pulling the woman with him roughly. He snarled at her, glancing over her shoulder to Sookie, who hadn't moved from her spot behind her.

"Watch yourself," he said ominously, but Rebecca feigned indifference. She watched him go, disappearing into the night, before turning to her friend.

"You can't get in the middle of this, not when so much is on the line," she said, turning back to resume her post at the kitchen. The room had fallen into complete silence, save for the low hum of the jukebox, and Rebecca could feel every eye in the room follow her—and one pair of eyes look in on her from the inside. He was inside her now, and though she didn't know what that meant, exactly, she knew that he knew something of what had transpired there that night. And, try as she might, Rebecca couldn't bring herself to feel anything but safety in that knowledge.

As the night drew to a close, Rebecca felt her body grow heavy with fatigue. The double shift had brought her extra money—cooks earned a larger salary, generally—and she would have the day off tomorrow, so she counted her change and allowed Sam to walk her to her car. She took his warnings into consideration, patted his arm when he asked her to be careful, and drove off at speeds that would surely get her arrested, if they could catch her.

The house was empty when she finally made it back, and Rebecca knew it would remain so until dawn or later the next day. So, she rinsed the grime from her skin in a short, cool shower, and threw on her comfiest pair of sweats—borrowed from her roommate, slipping into bed on a sigh. The sheets were warm in the heat of the summer, and, though her window was closed, she thought she could feel the rush of a cool breeze as she drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey everyone! Here is the next installment of Bargain, and the story is moving forward at a steady pace. In this game, Eric makes his first move.**

Rebecca spent a few days looking over her shoulder, only going out in the daytime, and spending her nights inside Sookie's house, feeling like a mouse being stalked by a very dangerous cat. Sam tried to give her the daytime shifts that were available, and he was very understanding, but there came a time that he was strapped for employees and Rebecca had to suck it up and go in just before sunset.

Sam kept her close, behind the bar; pouring drinks and taking the tips she was offered with gratitude. Rebecca spared the front door a glance now and then, but soon got lost in the rhythm of her work, bouncing from place to place as the night wore on. It was Friday night, and the crowd was growing thicker with those getting off from work, and those looking to unwind after a hard week. She had to ask for Sam to run to the back and pick up a couple of boxes to refill her stock more than once.

The night was balmy, and the front door was propped open to let the air circulate throughout the room and between the masses of bodies that roamed the bar. Rebecca rubbed irritably at the skin on the back of her neck, grimacing at the sweat she found beaded there. She would have to take a second shower that night before she could even think of slipping between the sheets. The thought of a bed sent a warm feeling throughout her body. She was not used to the long shift, and her energy was lagging as the hours passed.

When Sam nodded to her, signaling the time for her half hour break, Rebecca sidled around the edge of the bar and threw down her towel, heading to the back of the bar. She got three steps before a peculiar kind of feeling raced over her body, settling at the back of her neck like the firm caress of a lover. She turned to face it, eyes going wide as Eric and Pam strode into the bar. Given the fact that he hadn't quite noticed her just yet, Rebecca took a moment to take him in. He was imposing, in dark jeans, tank, and jacket. His hair had been cut and was now slicked back from his face, which made him look even more GQ than she remembered.

Rebecca shoved her hands into her regulation uniform shorts and turned her gaze to Pam, who waved the air around her face in disgust. Rebecca smirked, turning to head to the break room and get some much needed rest before beginning the last leg of her shift.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Came Eric's voice.

Rebecca groaned, resuming her place by the bar, bracing a hand on the wood, "On my break."

His eyes gave her a once over, and her mutinous nerves shivered in response. She knew he noticed when the tiniest of smirks played over his mouth. Rebecca glowered at him, forcing herself to relax and not run away as she so wanted to do.

"We have business to discuss," he said, stepping further into the room. Rebecca noticed the way the people seemed to make way for him, and she didn't blame them. Eric's physique alone, harboring an unimaginable strength would have been enough. Add on that fact that he could and probably had ripped someone to shreds and there was a real enough reason to stand clear of him. Rebecca, however, held her ground, much to her surprise, even cocking a sassy hip as she looked up at him.

"Do we? I seem to remember a firm dismissal last time we discussed business." Rebecca tried in vain to slow down her heart, but he was too close, crowding her air, and breathing was becoming very difficult.

Eric took a small step forward, leaning down to speak lowly in her ear, "It is a matter to be discussed in private. It will only take a moment." His voice dropped an octave on the last sentence, his mouth fairly rubbing over her ear in gentle persuasion. From over his shoulder, Rebecca could see Sam getting riled up for a confrontation, and she made a snap decision to defer the scene.

"Fine," she said, taking a much needed step away and intimating that he should follow her down the hall. They passed the kitchen just as Arlene was coming out, and she gave Rebecca look that said she should prepare for the Spanish Inquisition when she was done. Rebecca thanked God that Sookie was off that night, or she'd have to relate the whole thing to her, as well. As it was, if she just told Arlene, the whole of her co-workers would know within the hour.

Figuring Sam's office would be more private than the employee break room, Rebecca stepped through the door and gestured in a vague way that he should follow through as well. Closing the door, she turned to Eric, who was lounging in Sam's chair, looking as if he felt quite at home in the half-broken thing. Crossing her arms, Rebecca stared him down, waiting.

Eric returned her gaze for a few minutes, but quickly sat forward, the move fluid. "Brandon was here, was he not?"

"Yes," Rebecca said, leaning against the door tiredly.

"He threatened you," he said, his tone flat. Rebecca nodded. "And what was unclear about my instructions to you?"

"Instructions?" Rebecca replied dumbly, brows coming together.

Eric rose, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket, an idiosyncrasy that seemed subconsciously anxious, "Don't play stupid, Rebecca, it's rude."

Rebecca rubbed at her eyes, the stress running rampant throughout her body. She had been on a high for several days, and coming down hadn't been the easiest thing she'd ever done. She was crashing, and she didn't need Eric's cryptic conversation to help her plight along the path to what felt like the hangover of her life.

"Listen, Eric," she sighed, "I don't know what you're talking about, and I really don't think this is the time to be having this conversation."

Suddenly he was in front of her, boxing her in with his arms, "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. I specifically stated that if Brandon were to harm you, I would step in. Intimidation and threats fall under the category of harm. Now, when were you going to tell me?"

Rebecca looked up at him, quite stunned, "I… must have forgotten."

Eric's face grew stormy; the bright blue of his eyes darkening dangerously enough that Rebecca tried to shimmy away. He caught her by the waist, putting her back as she was without much thought—his mind seemingly focused elsewhere. Rebecca tried to wait patiently as he worked whatever he was thinking about out in his own time, but as the minutes dragged on, she began to worry. His shoulders were so tense; his hands pressing against the wood of the door hard enough that she heard a creak in the paneling.

Waving a hand in front of his face, Rebecca called to him. He caught her wrist, pulling her away from the door a few steps, and moving a few more steps away. Rebecca felt the loss of him instantly, but quickly tamped it down, wondering what the fuck was going on, and when it was going to end? Suddenly, she felt very much like she had when Brandon had first come home with bite marks all over him. She felt like there was some huge secret hanging around that she wasn't privy to, wasn't allowed to know about—and it pissed her off.

"Why don't you tell me what you came to tell me, and we can both be on our merry ways," she said roughly, hands resting on her hips.

The motion must have sparked some kind of interest in him, and his eyes, which had been pointed at the floor, took the lazy path up her legs and torso to her face.

"As Sheriff, I can't have a rogue vampire roaming my streets. Moreover, I can't have a target so weak as you in his sights. It wouldn't look good if a human is stalked and killed in Area 5."

Rebecca's mouth hung open, shock so severe that she almost didn't recognize it coursed through her body. She huffed out a breath, then turned her back to him a moment to collect herself.

"I suppose," she said, gritting her teeth, "You have a plan."

"Of course."

"Ah," Rebecca bit out, turning back to him, "Would you like to let me in on it, or am I to be in the figurative and literal dark?"

Eric smiled, teeth gleaming, "I think you might like my dark."

"Not likely."

He chuckled lowly, the vibration somewhere in the vicinity of a purr, "We'll see." Then, he flicked an errant hair from his eyes and leveled a look at her that she knew meant business. "Work for me at Fangtasia. I can protect you there."

Rebecca laughed. She clutched her stomach and laughed hard enough that tears started to stream down her cheeks. Collapsing to the floor, she allowed the laughter to dissipate on one huge breath. Looking up at him and wiping her eyes, Rebecca's face fell.

"You can't be serious," she said, "He'll just send someone to 'fetch' me as soon as you've turned your back. I'm better off staying away from vampires altogether."

Eric crouched before her, "I'm quite serious. And you forget that I have given you my blood."

Rebecca looked at him, confused.

"I'll know where you are, and I'll know if you're in danger. And I can get to you very quickly," he said tapping her nose with his forefinger.

Rebecca felt all the fight drain out of her, "You'll have to ask Sam."

As if called, Sam opened the door, a worried look on his face. "You good, Becky?"

"Rebecca," she and Eric replied simultaneously. Rebecca rolled her eyes, but ushered her boss in.

Eric rolled his shoulder as if to release some of that tension she'd seen earlier, "I'd like to have Rebecca come and work for me until her divorce is finalized and we are assured of her safety."

"Bullshit," Sam said, "And no."

Rebecca raised her brows, impressed that Sam actually had a backbone after all. Eric rose, lifting her by her forearm without much effort. "Asking you was a courtesy, Sam, I hope you'll realize that. I will not have a vampire murdering the townsfolk in my area. Rebecca will work for me until everything has been cleared up, and then I will return her to you—that is, if she still wants to work here."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "She is my waitress, and she may not be very good at it—,"

"Hey!" Rebecca cut in, only to be ignored.

"But she can decide for herself," Sam finished.

Eric nodded, turning his full attention to her. Rebecca felt her mouth go dry as he came closer, leaning down to her level. "Well? It is, as he said, your decision."

Rebecca blinked, feeling the waves of power emanating from his body. She recognized the faint taste of glamour on him, but she forced herself to focus. "I need a minute," she said.

Blinking, Eric's eyes narrowed a bit, but he stepped back. "A minute."

Rebecca rushed from the room and across the hall to the bathroom, which was thankfully empty. Then, she turned on the faucet and ran the cold water, splashing it over her heated skin as she tried to make her body calm down. It was completely unfair that Eric would use glamour against her, but she knew enough that if she could focus, she could avoid his influence. Turning the water off, Rebecca reached for a paper towel, her hand coming into contact with a cloth-covered body.

Startled, Rebecca cursed as she skipped a few steps away. "You can't keep doing that."

Eric smirked, "I gave you a minute. Now, your decision—although I'm sure you'll see things my way."

Wiping the excess water from her face, Rebecca leaned a hip against the sink, "Yeah… well." It wasn't the most erudite of phrases, but she couldn't really think of an argument. Who better to protect her from a vampire than a vampire? It was like fighting fire with fire.

"You will be safe, I can assure you," he intoned, touching a finger to her cheek and bringing back a small drop of water to inspect.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "From Brandon, maybe."

He rubbed the drop of water between his thumb and forefinger, "You have other dangers after you? I must say, that is a feat."

Bristling at his sarcastic tone, Rebecca squeezed her hands into fists. "You're really kind of annoying when you're getting your way."

"Then you should get used to it," Eric shot back, leaning once again into her personal space, "Because I _always_ get what I want."

Swallowing hard, Rebecca tried to breathe evenly, failing as she inhaled his scent, "Is that so?"

"It is." Eric stepped away, holding the door open for her in a blink of an eye. "Now, if you please."

Rebecca folded her arms across her chest and strode through the door with her head held high. Sam was standing outside the door, scratching at his head as if wondering if he should enter. Rebecca patted him on the shoulder as she passed, "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam's brows drew together. He pulled her to the side, speaking harshly, "I don't think this is a good idea. We can keep you safe right here, you don't have to go with him." Rebecca smiled as if placating a small animal. She reached up and hugged Sam tightly in her arms.

"I'll be fine. You just keep this roof up and I'll be back to being a shitty waitress in no time," Rebecca soothed. She placed a soft kiss on Sam's cheek and pulled away. As soon as she had cleared him, Eric grasped her wrist and pulled her along the hallway behind him, his step sharp. Rebecca followed along until they reached the open room, and tried not to blush as every pair of eyes watched them go. By the time they reached the parking lot, Rebecca had dug her feet in, forcing Eric to stop—well, forcing as much as she could against his superior strength.

"What now?" Eric said in exasperation.

Rebecca whipped her hair from her eyes and stomped her foot, "Okay, I get that you have an… area to protect. But you can't just drag me along like some kind of rag doll. I have feet, I can walk, and I'm going back into that bar," she pointed to Merlotte's, "I am going to get my purse and pay, and _then_ I'll come out and we can go wherever we're going to go."

Taking Eric's silence as acquiescence, Rebecca turned on her heel, rushed through the bar to the back room, and picked up her purse. Then, she ignored Sam's warnings, holding out her hand to get her pay for the night. He forked it over without another word, and Rebecca gave him a thankful smile. Then, she traipsed out of the bar and up to Eric, who hadn't moved.

"Are you ready now?" He asked, his face like stone.

"Yes, I am." Rebecca felt a tiny bit of pride at having won this battle, but that pride was short-lived as Eric rushed her, pulling her to him and shot up into the air. Rebecca let out a sharp squeak, clinging to Eric's shoulders and looking around wildly. "A little warning," she called, heavy great heaps of breath into her lungs.

She felt more than heard his laugh as she had to close her eyes against the wind that was flying in her face and stealing her breath. Just as she was beginning to get used to the feeling, Eric let her down, her feet coming into contact with the ground. Rebecca steadied herself against his chest, giving him a hard look before stepping away. Her stomach was all in knots from the feeling of flight, and dark circles formed around her line of vision.

"You're not going to pass out again, are you?" Came Eric's voice.

"Fuck you," Rebecca breathed, holding out a hand to brace her body against a wall.

Eric's growl was vicious, and Rebecca was pushed face first into the brick of the building. "That can be arranged," he said lowly, and she could feel his teeth pressed against the nape of her neck. Memories of Brandon came surging forth, and Rebecca felt the sharp tang of fear and hate release into her blood. She pressed backwards, crying out in struggle. Eric restrained her as she lashed out, kicking and swinging her head around until she couldn't move anymore.

When she calmed, Eric lifted her as one would a child, taking a back entrance into the club and moving with sure steps to what she assumed was his office. Rebecca sniffed into his shirt, trying to calm her fear and knowing that she'd probably lost whatever protection he was going to offer her. When he sat her down on a supple leather couch, Rebecca immediately curled in on herself, settling as far away from him as she could, pressing her shoulder into the arm of the couch.

Sighing, Eric grabbed her ankle, and pulled her to him, catching her flailing limbs and arranging her on his lap with ease.

"Stop moving," he commanded in such as tone that Rebecca was helpless in her response. She stilled, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I won't say this again, so listen closely. I will not now, nor will I ever harm you. You've nothing to fear, at least, not from me."

Rebecca blinked, "I can't trust that."

"You're going to have to learn to," he replied, pulling her closer. "Like it or not, I have staked claim on you. I may not have tasted you yet, but you are mine."

Scoffing, Rebecca said, "What does that mean? Brandon said that all that damned time and I never got it."

Eric smiled, "Did he really?" She nodded. "Well, we'll just have to address that little issue when he comes in."

Rebecca stiffened, "He knows better than that, Eric. He's going to be sneaky—,"

"I highly doubt that. He's an idiot, Rebecca, I would not say this if he hadn't provoked me in a room full of people." He brushed the hair from her eyes, running a finger along the column of her neck. "My scent is all over you, and he would have known a stronger vampire had staked claim."

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, "Still a little fuzzy on the definition, here. Hey, have you thought about a vampire dictionary, I bet it'd sell millions."

Eric raised a brow, "You should sleep. You're talking nonsense, and to be honest, I've had enough of trying to decipher you tonight."

Before she could protest, he laid her on the couch, grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back, and threw it over her. "I'll be working until sunrise. Pam is on her way to pick up your things. You will sleep, and I will speak with you tomorrow night."

His voice was low and hypnotic, and Rebecca felt her eyelids droop as he spoke. Obstinately, she fought against it, trying to train her eyes on his beautiful face. After a few moments, he chuckled.

"So stubborn," he whispered, brushing his fingertips over her cheekbones. "Are you always this difficult?"

Rebecca shrugged, "I don't know. Do you always fight this hard to get your way?"

He brought his face close enough that, had he breathed, they would be sharing the same breath. Rebecca held her ground, keeping his gaze, but her mouth parted in anticipation of a kiss that she was stupid to expect. Eric smiled, watching her mouth in curiosity. Feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment, Rebecca flicked her gaze away to the floor.

Pulling away, Eric strode from the room, his steps placed meticulously so that she never lost sight of him as he stalked away. When he reached the door, pulling it half open, Eric reached up and flicked off the lights. Then, with the lights of the club shining behind him, illuminating him with an unearthly glow, he said, "Sweet dreams," and stepped from the room.

**I know a lot of authors use this kind of situation to move their stories along, but this felt about as natural as bare skin for Rebecca. Remember, Eric is still a baddie at heart, so its not going to be butterflies and roses. **

REVIEWS=LOVE


	7. Chapter 7

**New chapter, in which the dynamic between Rebecca and Eric begins to take form. Hope y'all like it. **

Rebecca was being shaken awake by small, bony hands. She jerked awake, nearly falling off the couch in the process. A thin, gaunt woman leaned over her, mumbling that she should wake up. Shooing the hands away, Rebecca sat upright, rubbing at her eyes.

"What time is it?" She asked.

The twiggy blonde looked at a clock hanging on the wall, "Two in the afternoon. Look, I gotta get you up and dressed soon. We've got prep work to do, and training, and uniform fitting, and…"

Rebecca waved off her chatter, running her hands through tangled hair. "Shower?"

The woman paused, bouncing from foot to foot, contemplating the question, "You know, there's one downstairs, but I don't know if you can use it."

Giving the woman a sardonic look, Rebecca raised her hands, palms up, "I look like hell, honey, and if I'm going to be working tonight, don't you think I should be looking my best?"

The woman paused, thinking it over for several seconds before jerking her head to the side. Rebecca followed her out onto the floor of the bar and down a narrow hallway. At the back of the hallway stood a door armed with a pin code. She tapped a few numbers out and the door opened, revealing a very large, marbled room with a few shower heads that faced in a circular patter towards the middle. Rebecca's eyes widened as she took in the spacious and expensive looking décor. There was not an inch of space that hadn't been meticulously crafted to suit the needs of—it looked like—a mass of people who would happen to need a shower all at the same time.

"I don't think they'll mind if you use this. There are soaps and things hanging just over there. I've got your uniform right here, and there are towels in the closet there." She pointed to various places around the room, and Rebecca nodded, taking the clothes she offered and shooing the woman away. The room may be suited for a crowd, but she wasn't ready to take her clothes off in front of an audience quite yet.

The water pressure, thank God, was solid, and Rebecca found herself resting her hands against the middle column as the spray beat down upon her muscles which ached from lying on the couch the entire night. She scrubbed her skin over and over, conditioning her hair for an extra five minutes or so while shaving her legs. Then, as she was rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, she noticed that the scars, which had been on her stomach and thighs were completely gone—even the one on her knee where she'd fallen on a nail as a child. They had not just dissipated, as she had originally thought, they had completely healed.

Padding over to the mirror, Rebecca checked every inch of her skin, wondering at how the bite marks, which had outlasted several layers of cocoa butter and a half ton of scar cream could be completely gone without her really noticing it. She assumed it was because, after so many months of abuse, her body had taken a toll and the scars soon began to pile upon one another. Rebecca had been disgusted with her body, and thus hadn't paid much attention to it, other than to run a cloth over it to wipe away the dirt and dried blood.

Now, she studied her body to the minutest detail, turning around and around in front of the mirror. After several minutes, Rebecca heard a knock at the door and a voice beckoning her to finish up quickly. She sloughed off the remaining water and threw on the uniform, pausing when there didn't seem to be enough material for her body. She tugged on the shorts and at the neckline, grimacing as each piece of fabric rode either too high or too low for her comfort. Growling softly, she opened the door and stuck her head out into the hall.

"I am not wearing this, I look ridiculous," she said to the woman, who rolled her eyes, pushing the door open.

"Nonsense, you look perfectly fine," she replied, pulling her hair into a high ponytail roughly. Rebecca flinched, but allowed the woman to manipulate her hair.

"Let me guess," Rebecca said when her hair was in place, "This is the _required_ look."

"Yep," she replied, giving her a once over, "Don't worry, you'll find they're really very nice here. By the way, my name is Ginger."

Rebecca rolled her eyes discreetly, "I'm Rebecca. It's… nice to meet you." She held out her hand for the woman to shake, and she noticed that there were tremors in Ginger's limbs that seemed a little too pronounced to be nervousness. Rebecca watched her for a moment, then flipped the ponytail over her shoulder, blinking at Ginger until the gaunt woman spurred into action, dragging her out of the bathroom and into the main floor of the bar. She rattled on about rules and regulations, about how the waitresses aren't supposed to 'see' anything, or know anything about what goes on behind the closed doors of Fangtasia.

She ran through the table breakdown and assigned Rebecca a section, and she also gave Rebecca the low-down on the regular customers. Some, Ginger said, were the best tippers, and some were a little scary. But, overall, Ginger loved working there with an enthusiasm that rivaled the cheerleaders that Rebecca had seen in high school.

Rebecca took it all in as best she could, juggling drink specials and protocols with her unrelenting thoughts that things just didn't seem right with her 'trainer'. Before long, the sun was set and the bar's first patrons began rolling through the door. Seven came around, then eight, and nine. Rebecca kept busy, taking orders and fielding pickup lines. Eventually, she saw that this new job was very much similar to her previous job—save the fact that the clientele were, admittedly, much more diverse than at Merlotte's.

Her heart pounding to the hard-driving beat of the music, Rebecca pushed through her shift. Occasionally, she would pull surreptitiously on the hem of her shorts or readjust her top. The material, however, refused to give one way or the other, merely shift so as to reveal another patch of previously covered skin. She sighed in exasperation. It was, apparently, no use to try to make herself look anything but a scantily clad waitress in a bar—which, she guessed, was what she happened to be.

Tips were better, though, she thought as she absently patted her pocket. Rebecca had earned enough to put in her first month's rent in just a few hours. Perhaps it was due to the novelty of her working there. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she continued to make good money so she could quit mooching off friends.

When midnight rolled around, she was sent on break by the new bartender, Chow. There was no employee break room, so she took a seat at one of the empty booths. While sipping on a bottle of water, Rebecca took the time to closely observe the room. Men and women of all races and creeds congregated on the dance floor, dancing, talking, or propositioning the more dangerous clientele. The unofficial dress code seemed to be all black, splashes of red, hair dye, piercings, and tattoos. If she hadn't been wearing her waitressing uniform, Rebecca would have stood out like a sore thumb. Even her white tee, shorts, and sneakers wouldn't have been acceptable. At least she blended in, uncomfortable as she was, and that provided some kind of relief.

To her great surprise, Rebecca looked up and found Pam standing at the entrance of the booth, a bored and tedious expression on her face.

"Yes?" She asked, shifting nervously in her seat.

Pam looked at her nails, rolling each along her thumb, and then sat at the far end of the booth. "I take it you are enjoying your first day."

Rebecca raised a brow, "Are you asking because you really care to know, or is this just small talk?"

Pam shot her an annoyed expression.

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca put on her most enthusiastic smile (channeling Ginger), "Well it's the most wonderful place I've ever worked!"

The smile faltered as Rebecca lied, but she leaned back in the booth and sulked. Pan didn't have time to reply because the atmosphere of the room suddenly changed, an electric current striking through the crowd and throwing it into a near frenzy.

Rebecca craned her neck to see what the commotion was all about. She didn't have to wonder long, because the object of the entire room's obsession came waltzing through the crowd and up to the throne situated on the stage. Eric settled into his chair, sharp eyes glancing over the crowd in abject boredom, before finally resting on her booth. He stared her down, and then raised one hand, flicking two fingers forwards and back to intimate that she should come. Rebecca sighed; angling her body out of the booth just after Pam vacated the space.

When they stood side by side, facing the front of the room, Pam turned to Rebecca, hands moving to her slim hips, "You smell like him, you know." And then she turned on her designer heels and stepped away.

Rebecca looked at her retreating form for several seconds before scrambling to catch up, mumbling excuses to the crowd as she had to veritably push her way through. Eventually, she was able to climb her way to the dais, and stand before Eric out of breath. She brushed a stray hair from her face and gave him an entreating look.

"Sit," he intoned, gesturing to a chair nearby. Pam leaned on the throne on which he sat, raising a brow at her.

Rebecca sat slowly, crossing her legs demurely, and waiting to see what was going to happen. Eric gave her a once over, lingering on the exposed skin of her legs. Rebecca resisted the urge to squirm valiantly, as well as kept her mouth shut. Eric's mercurial temperament wasn't something she was about to test, as least not while wearing the shortest shorts imaginable—although, she really didn't think a garbage bag would stop him, if he were so inclined, but that was beside the point.

Finally, Eric leaned forward, his face less than a foot away, "I found it very amusing that you used my private bath this evening."

Rebecca simultaneously blushed and cringed. She knew she shouldn't have trusted Ginger.

Eric watched her reddening cheeks, his smile growing all the while. "It was… entertaining to imagine you standing naked in a room so vast. I didn't think such a scared little rabbit like you could possibly strip down to nothing without securing yourself in a locked cage."

Nerves finally frayed, Rebecca shot back, "Look, I don't appreciate being an image for your personal spank bank, so can we just move on?"

For a moment, he seemed to not comprehend her meaning, but Rebecca knew when he'd figured it out. His eyes grew several shades darker, and his mouth twisted into a wry grin. Leaning forward, he brushed a finger over her wrist, tracing the vein with the lightest of touches.

"Do you like that thought? Of me touching myself and thinking of you?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Rebecca yanked her arm away, firmly pushing the thudding in her chest to the background and chalking it up to embarrassment. Eric laughed, leaning heavily into his chair and leveling a look at her that said that he now meant to get to the heart of the matter.

"Pam has retrieved your belongings from Sookie's home. There is a room for you here at Fangtasia. You are not allowed outside the grounds without an escort—either Pam or myself—do I make myself clear?"

Rebecca sat dumbfounded, utterly unable to respond. Pam had gone through her things, her _personal_ belongings, and now she was being locked away for God knows how long. Every urge in her body told her to walk out the door and to never come back. In fact, she stood to do exactly that when she was summarily yanked back into her seat, a cool hand on her arm.

"You were not excused," Eric said roughly, his expression hard.

Rebecca swallowed, debating on whether or not to pull her arm away again. It didn't seem like a good idea due to fact that Eric's fans had descended and he had a particularly murderous expression marring his usually handsome features. He growled lowly, the sound reverberating between them and Rebecca could have sworn the room fell silent. She shifted in her seat, her eyes scanning the room. There didn't seem to be a disruption, but she could see that every otherworldly eye in the bar was watching curiously.

Leaning forward, Rebecca touched Eric's fingers around her arm, "I know you're trying to protect your area, but locking me up in some room isn't the way to go about it. In fact, that's not even on the table right now. And if you decide that's what you're going to do, I'm going to have to break our agreement."

She said it in the most rational tone she could muster, but failed to keep the tremble out of her voice. It shook with a fear built from Brandon's abuse, and her natural disinclination for Eric's overbearing nature. He seemed mollified, if he could ever be in this situation, and his grip loosened to a caress.

"You would renounce any protection I could offer you, for the sake of your freedom?" He asked, rolling her fingers through his two hands.

Rebecca shrugged, "I won't bow to those conditions, Eric. I can't stop living just because Brandon wants me to."

Eric looked up from his perusal of her hand, his expression serious, "What would you bow to, I wonder?"

Feeling that they had shifted gears somewhere in the course of the conversation, Rebecca discreetly pulled her hand to her abdomen, leaning away from him. "I don't think that's something you need to know right now."

"You're right, I don't need to know it now. I'll know it soon enough." He returned to that arrogant pose she'd seen when he first entered the room, drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair. "Name your terms."

Rebecca raised a brow. It seemed like a trap, him allowing her to name terms, but she guessed it was a risk she'd need to take. "I want the freedom to come and go as I choose on days when I'm off. I'll acquiesce to an escort at night, I'm not completely idiotic. And I want to remain at Sookie's."

Eric smirked, "You may have your first condition, but I really must insist that you stay here. We can't keep an eye on you otherwise." He nodded to Pam, who frowned down at her.

Returning Pam's look, Rebecca shook her head, "No, I won't impose on you further than necessary."

"It is necessary. Your Brandon will no doubt send some kind of thug to Sookie's home—and you wouldn't want a repeat of the blood on the walls, would you?"

Looking away, Rebecca knew he had a point, but it didn't make it any easier to give him the victory. She debated it over and over, wondering if she could get around it, but Eric kept looking at her with that damned smirk on his face. It was enough to make her spit, how much he annoyed her. She huffed like a child, crossing her arms over her chest and sulking in her chair.

"Fine, but I want a new outfit. I've got one pair of jeans and three t-shirts. I don't have anything to wear to the hearing, and I need to make a good impression."

Eric nodded, saying something she couldn't understand to Pam, who stepped away with vampiric speed. "Come to my office at closing, I'll show you to your room."

Rebecca nodded, standing carefully and stepping off the stage. Her break was long gone, and she found that she had lots of customers waiting when she made her rounds. The tips kept coming, and soon enough she was discreetly slipping them into her bra when she got a moment behind the bar. The rest of the night went smoothly, and Rebecca tried to keep her mind on her job, and not on the vampire whose eyes kept following her around the room, trying to intimidate her, no doubt.

Four a.m. shrugged by, and Rebecca's feet had long ago gone numb from the constant movement, her ears humming with the leftovers of the music. The crowd thinned to nothing, and Rebecca clocked out, sighing tiredly. If every night was as hectic as that night, she was going to be too exhausted to even move, let alone spend time outdoors.

With the bar emptied and the tables wiped down, Rebecca felt her exhaustion kick in fully. The night had been long, and she was ready to get some much needed sleep. She gave a nod to Ginger, who smiled indulgently, sending her towards the back offices with a motherly pat on the shoulder. Rebecca trudged along the path, arms swinging limply at her sides. She only hope Eric would be quick, so she could finally go to sleep.

Rebecca knocked on the door and waited, rubbing at the tired muscles of her neck and shoulders. After a beat, the door swung open and Eric waved her in.

"Close the door," he ordered, moving to sit behind his desk.

Doing as he said, Rebecca shut the door, and landed heavily into a waiting chair. She slouched, resting her head on her hand, "So, what next?"

Choosing not to answer right away, Eric perused her oddly angled body, pausing on the inflated pockets of her shorts. Rebecca raised her brows in question.

"Good tips?" He asked.

"Very," Rebecca replied, "Why?"

Eric leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. "Show me."

Rebecca blinked, "I'm confused."

"Your tips. Honestly, Rebecca, it couldn't be a simpler request."

He looked tired, Rebecca realized. And she guessed that he probably was. His desk was one massive pile of paperwork, post-it notes, and pens. She noticed a pile of boxes full of folders, their white contents practically spilling out of their skins.

As she began to pull the bills from her shorts, Rebecca took a closer look at the files. Our of the corner of her eyes, she recognized her name. _So, he had a file for her as well, did he?_ Mentally, she made a note to check it out in more detail later.

Sitting back, Rebecca showed Eric the empty insides of her pockets, intimating that there was no more. He glanced down at the pile and made a sly face, his gaze moving pointedly to her chest. Rebecca winced, then scowled at him, reaching into her bra to pull out the bills. Eric watched with a growing smile—smug in his minor victory.

When she threw down the bills, he touched them lightly with the pads of his fingers.

"Still warm," he murmured more to himself than directly at her.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "That's all of it."

Eric appraised the bills, "You have over six hundred dollars here."

She nodded.

"That's quite an achievement."

Again, she nodded.

Eric relaxed into the cushioning of his leather chair. "I wonder if you can guess how this happened."

Rebecca's brows drew together, "I was, ah, a good waitress."

He chuckled lowly, the sound very soft to Rebecca's ears. She ignored the corresponding raising of the hairs along her arms.

"I suppose you have an explanation, then?" She shot back, barely keeping her ire out of her voice.

Eric nodded, rising to move around the desk, resting his weight against the edge. "I'm sure you've noticed that you were… unmolested this evening."

Rebecca thought about it, and agreed with him with a nod. She had been propositioned once or twice, but they never got pushy with her—which was more than she could say for her human clientele. Looking up at him, she wondered just where this was going.

Reaching down, Eric grasped her hand, holding it palm up for his inspection. He then pulled her to standing, raising her wrist to his nose and inhaling very subtly. He ran the skin over his mouth, and Rebecca tensed, pulling at her hand to avoid a bite. Eric's grip held, tightening, even, until she cried out in pain. Memories of similar injuries flooded her mind, and she had to full-body tackle the tears so that they wouldn't begin to flow down her cheeks.

They stood in tense silence, until Rebecca's strength gave out and she slumped to the side, leaning heavily on Eric's desk, one palm braced against the wood. Eric turned to face her, adjusting his grip to cradle her whole arm against his chest. Rebecca breathed hard through her nose, keeping her eyes averted and her head down. It was a pose she had assumed many times during the last months of her relationship with Brandon, and she only hoped that it would work in a similar situation.

Using his free hand, Eric tucked a stray hair around her ear, shushing her softly. Rebecca turned her face away, embarrassed and scared of him in every way possible. She felt that she had jumped from the frying pan and into the fire, trading one vampire for another, much crueler one—one that played on her emotions and libido as well as her fears. Eric's potential to harm her was infinitely vaster than Brandon's, and what was worse was that he probably knew it.

She allowed him to pull her into a deceptively soft embrace, allowed him to pet her hair and rub soothing circles on her back, allowed him to calm her down. He stayed silent for a long while, waiting until her sniffles subsided, and until she pushed away from him of her own free will. Then, he grasped her shoulders and turned her to look him in the eye.

"Do you want to know why they left you alone?" He asked.

Rebecca shrugged, rubbing at her nose, which felt raw and red.

Eric's hands slid from her shoulders to cup her cheeks, "They left you alone Rebecca because I have claimed you. You have taken a part of me inside you, and that leaves a very distinct mark." He leaned very close, his mouth pressed against her temple. "You smell like me, and will smell like me for quite some time. And when that scent begins to fade, I will give you my blood again to renew it… Now, don't fight, it is done. There is nothing that can reverse it, not even time. You'll just have to get used to it."

Rebecca looked at him dumbly, unable to grasp the gravity of the situation. They held each other's gaze for minutes, hours, she couldn't really tell. And then he leaned down and pressed a soft, simple kiss to her mouth.

"You should sleep. Your room is through there," He said in a near whisper. And when her feet wouldn't move her, Eric bodily pushed her through a cleverly hidden door.

The room was not opulent, but it was elegant. Everything looked handcrafted and made of the finest materials. There was a metalwork four poster bed draped with a thick, heavy curtain, and there was a wardrobe and dresser set made of a deep red wood. The room was pulled together with a Turkish rug, the deep, warm colors accenting the colors of the bedspread and the paint on the walls.

With Eric's help, Rebecca was pulled out of her uniform and draped in a long cotton shirt. Then, she was neatly tucked into bed. As she fell asleep, she thought that it was odd that her pillow smelled absolutely amazing. She buried her head into it, breathing deeply, and succumbed to the waiting darkness.

**Let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Oookay, here goes nothin'.**

Some time after settling into the mattress, Rebecca woke to total and complete darkness. For half a second, she panicked. But the feeling of the soft sheet and the downy pillow, along with the steady beating of her heart, assured her that she was still alive and all was well. Calming herself, Rebecca reached out blindly, her fingers brushing against the fabric of the heavy curtain she vaguely remembered from before she fell asleep.

Rising, Rebecca pushed it aside and swung her legs over the edge. The floor was ice cold and stung against the soles of her feet. Hissing, she curled her toes, forcing her limbs to adjust to the temperature before resting her full weight on them. The room was also very dark outside the protection of the curtain; the only light coming from the slit beneath the door—and even that was dull and helped very little in the way of seeing.

Rebecca padded over to the door, testing the knob, and she wasn't surprised to find it locked. She leaned her palms on it, resting her forehead gently between them. As soon as she got the chance, Rebecca vowed she would find a way to pick the lock. It violated everything she agreed to, and Eric was overstepping his bounds by thinking he could cage her in a room and that she would go along with it.

After a few more silent moments, Rebecca turned to head back to the bed, but stopped short when she heard a gunshot pierce through the hallways. The sound echoed throughout the building, stealing her breath and pumping adrenaline through her veins. From behind her, she heard a distinctive growl and the air around her whooshed by so quickly that she lost her balance and fell to the floor. The door opened and closed in the blink of an eye, leaving her staring at the closed entrance with a befuddled expression.

Rebecca picked herself up slowly, wiping her hands to get rid of the non-existent dirt. Then, she tip-toed to the door. It was still locked.

"Of course," she murmured, "Wouldn't want me getting in the way."

Feeling more annoyed than angry, Rebecca trudged to the bed and allowed her body to fall to the mattress. There, she lay for some minutes, staring up at the shadow-filled ceiling. There was no further commotion outside, and she figured Eric had handled whatever it was in his usual way—with bribery and manipulation. She sighed, they would have to talk.

Rising to her elbows, Rebecca considered the closed door, wondering just how long she would be kept locked away. She didn't have to wonder for very long, as the door clicked open and Eric stepped through, his body shadowed against the hall light. Rebecca sat up fully as he flicked on the lights and crossed her arms and legs, giving him an annoyed glare.

"What was all that about?" She asked, keeping her voice level.

Eric shrugged, a smooth movement of muscles that belied the power she had felt previously. She blinked in disbelief.

"That's all I get? A gunshot goes off just outside my door and I get a shrug for explanation? Gee, I feel so very safe now." Unable to keep the venom from her voice, she leaned her head back and sighed to the ceiling.

Eric leaned back against the door, folding his arms across his chest with a cool expression. "You _are_ safe. Have I given you the appearance that you are otherwise?"

Rebecca scoffed, standing abruptly, "I don't know, maybe I feel unsafe because you locked me in a room!"

Stepping away from the door, Eric dropped his hands, his shoulders canting forward in a way that forced Rebecca to recall a lion hunting a gazelle. Granted, that lion had been female, not a thousand year old male vampire—but the similarities were astounding. She uncrossed her legs and arms, bracing her feet against the floor in case she had to fight him off. He stalked a few steps forward and Rebecca caught her breath in her throat, watching him with wide eyes.

"You would do best," he said softly, almost above a whisper, "Not to raise your voice to me…ever again."

In a fit of unparalleled fury, Rebecca raised her chin, "This is not what we agreed to."

"And just what did we agree to?" He asked, coming to stand an inch from her.

His height forced her to tilt her neck all the way back to look at him. She refused to back down, mostly because there was no where really to go—except the bed, and she sure as shit wasn't going there with him.

Rebecca let out a soft breath, steadying herself against the onslaught of his gaze. From a distance, Eric's eyes were always a pale blue, but up close they transformed into a glacial mask of grays, whites, and silver. The gradient of colors swished over her senses, throwing her for a tailspin that had her stumbling over the words in her head. She arranged them over and over, mentally telling him what an overbearing jerk he was, and how it was no wonder he had to glamour a girl to get her into bed. None of it ever came out. Instead, she was left staring up at him, half naked, watching at that damned smile spread across his mouth.

She scowled, finally breaking his gaze. Eric laughed, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek.

"I didn't realize your memory was so short," he murmured.

Rebecca blinked, jerking her head away from him sharply, "It's not. You know very well how distracting you are." She rubbed the back of her neck in resignation, knowing that whatever fight they were having, she would not win. He was simply far more experienced than she, though helplessness was something she was prepared to feel.

When he didn't respond, Rebecca looked back up at him. Eric was staring at her, unblinking, his mouth pressed into a thin line. She shied away from him, but a firm hand on her hip stayed the movement. He seemed to be deep in thought, his expression glazed and far away.

With him so close, Rebecca expected to feel some residual heat. However, that heat never faded across her skin—all she felt was the ice in his eyes and demeanor. She couldn't keep the shudder from dancing along the length of her spine. It settled at the base, raking undiluted fear through her bones. She didn't think she could ever really get used to the alien aura he emanated. Nothing about him was remotely human and as much as she was fascinated by him, he also frightened her.

Seconds passed, minutes, maybe—she couldn't really tell. Rebecca only waited, barely breathing, for him to move, to breathe. All the while, her fingers clenched beside her racking form, her nails digging into the skin of her palm. She couldn't, wouldn't move, blink, or speak. There was no thought, no inclination to run, just the holding of Eric's gaze and the hard, pounding rhythm of her heart.

Sounds drifted in and out of her peripheral—workers slamming doors and the sharp click of heels on tile floors—but it all faded to the background. Eric stood at the forefront of her mind, leaning violently forward into her personal space. He looked more than angry—appalled, as if her were almost shocked that she would speak to him in a tone that was anything but deferent.

Eric lunged just a fraction of an inch closer, and Rebecca resisted the urge to flinch. He raised a brow, and one corner of his sensuous mouth lifted. Then, he tilted his head to the side, regarding her carefully.

"May I taste you?" He asked, inhaling softly.

Now, Rebecca did flinch. Eyes widening, she stepped back to escape, only to have her knees buckle as they hit the bed. Flinging her body hard and back, Rebecca tried to crawl across the tangled sheets to put some space between them, the fear—borne from a series of bloody beatings—bubbling up like vomit in her throat. She chocked on a scream as she felt cool, enormously strong fingers grip her left ankle and pull her body effortlessly back across the expanse of her escape.

Breathing in strangled pants, Rebecca looked up at Eric, her eyes watering embarrassingly.

Eric made a sound that might have been a sigh. Then, he released her ankle, leaning over her and bracing his palms on either side of her hips. Rebecca swallowed, but kept still.

"Really, Rebecca, I expected more of you."

Brows moving together, Rebecca replied, "In what way." Her voice cracked, but her eyes kept level with his.

Eric smiled, "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it already. As it is, I'm not in the habit of asking for a meal."

_I bet you aren't,_ Rebecca thought with a mental roll of her eyes.

As if he heard her thoughts, Eric chuckled. In a smooth, fluid movement, he had arranged himself above her, balanced on his hands and knees. Rebecca gripped the sheets, shrugging her shoulders subconsciously so as to protect her neck.

"Stop that," Eric ordered softly, fingers wiping away the gathered tears at her temples. "Most people would think it an honor to have me feed from them."

Rebecca heaved a long breath, "I believe I've said it before. I am not most people."

Leaning down, Eric touched her cheek with his nose, tracing a line down to her jaw, "I know."

Pulling away, Rebecca gave a sob, "Don't."

"Ah, but you didn't say please," Eric intoned, focusing his attention on the hollow of her throat.

The current, already running high, jumped up a notch as Eric ran his fingertips along the exposed skin, dipping into the hollow under her clavicle, and stopping just short of her breasts. Rebecca clenched her jaw and fists, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for the vicious bite to tear through the weak skin of her throat. Eric shushed her softly, sliding a hand beneath the small of her back to arch her upwards, easing his effort in the feed.

A knock sounded throughout the room and the door swung open to reveal a bored Pam, one hip cocked, manicured nails clicking against the jamb.

"Your breakfast is ready," she intoned lowly, her eyes barely sparing Rebecca a glance.

Feeling the breath rush from her lungs, Rebecca tried to push against Eric's chest to lift herself to sitting. She mentally thanked Pam for her interruption, glad to be spared Eric's bite for even just one more night. When he wouldn't budge, she looked up at him in confusion.

Eric continued to stare at her, his pupils so dilated that his eyes looked near black. Rebecca felt her stomach clench at the realization that he had no intention of letting her go so easily—at least, not with the hunger that he didn't even bother to veil shining in his eyes.

He blinked, "I believe I've already caught my breakfast. Thank you, Pam."

Rebecca almost screamed. Lungs constricting, she looked wide-eyed at Pam for help. But she merely shrugged her shoulders and reached forward to close the door.

"Wait!" Rebecca shouted, finally finding her voice. She returned her attention to the vampire hunched over her, his blonde hair falling effortlessly into his face. "You already have a meal—a willing meal. Why fight with me over it?"

Eric chuckled, "But I don't want that one." He leaned down, inhaling in the spot just behind her ear. Rebecca chose to ignore the answering flood of warmth through her body, chose to ignore the small moan building in the back of her throat.

"No, you don't," Rebecca breathed, "You want that girl, or guy, or whoever is waiting out there in the club. It would be rude to decline their offering." She didn't know why she was appealing to his sense of honor. It didn't look like he had any—not when he was clearly willing to take her blood without her consent, or to manipulate her sexually in order to get what he wanted. Still, she tried.

Fisting his hand into her hair, Eric lowered his body closer, resting much more of his weight on her hips, thighs, and abdomen. Rebecca gave him a pleading expression, hoping against hope that he would leave her be for the moment, and go take his meal elsewhere.

"Who are you to lecture me on etiquette? You, who take my protection, my room and board, and give nothing in return. I think you are the one being rude, Rebecca."

Mouth twisting, Rebecca replied coolly, "You offered all of the above. I didn't ask for it. In fact, I'll be glad to go back to working for Sam, if you find it an inconvenience."

Eric's eyes narrowed to slits, his fangs descending with a sharp snap. Rebecca swallowed as a deep, menacing growl echoed in the space between them. "Close the door, Pam," Eric ground out, his eyes turning hard.

The door clicked shut, and Rebecca felt her stomach drop out of her body. He would kill her for her insubordination, she knew. But, there was still some pride in knowing that she had stood up to him, that she hadn't been cowed by a vampire a second time.

Steeling herself for the kill, Rebecca held his gaze, jaw locked and expression stony. He wouldn't get another sound from her, not a plea or bargain. He would have to kill her in silence.

Unfortunately, the bite never came, Eric merely continued to growl in slow waves until she could feel it in her spine. She gazed up at him in confusion, wondering just what he was getting at, waiting so damn long to finish her off.

Finally, he lifted his head a bit and his expression changed subtly. "Do you know what it is to be claimed by a vampire?"

Rebecca nodded, "Brandon said he'd claimed me. The only comparable word I can't come up with is slave."

Eric smiled a mouth full of fangs and teeth. "He was a fledgling, Rebecca. But, perhaps my question was too vague." He leaned down and touched her lips gently with his own, drawing them back and forth smoothly. "Do you know what it means to be claimed by one as old as myself?"

"No," Rebecca whispered.

"Then, I will educate you." Eric brushed her cheek lightly, tracing a now familiar path from chin to breast and back, occasionally tucking his fingers in the collar of the shirt she was wearing.

"To be claimed by me means that you will run to no other when in need. That you will obey me in such times… and that you will allow me to feed from you when I have need of sustenance."

Rebecca cocked her head to the side, "And what if I don't want to be claimed by you."

He chuckled in true amusement, "You have no choice. As soon as you accepted my blood, you accepted the claim."

Feeling righteous indignation well up along with the blood in her veins, Rebecca snarled, "Brandon gave me his blood before you, even if it was only once. If anything, he has claim." Her tone was as respectful as she could manage, but she could tell the barb hit home.

She'd never seen someone actually go berserk, but she thought that the hiss, snarl, and growling coming from Eric's chest might be an indication that the process was starting. He nearly roared at her, his hands gripping her sides hard enough to bruise. How she managed to stay conscious and not pass out from fear was beyond her, but, then again, so was rational thinking.

After a few moments, he seemed to calm, his breaths slowing and his eyes softening.

"My apologies," He mumbled, resting his forehead against hers, "I seem to have forgotten myself." Then, "While he may have had prior claim—and it is a diminutive claim at best, as his blood is weak as water—I am much older than he, and can claim you if I please. He may bring the matter to any vampire authority, but I believe with the mounting evidence in your divorce, it will be decided in my favor."

Rebecca gawked at him as he laid it down before her in the simplest tones, without a shred of the arrogance that she was used to seeing in him. She blinked several times, but said nothing, unsure of how to take the strange conversation.

Hands drifting beneath her shirt, Eric cradled her hips to his own, relaxing in to the embrace of her body. "You are mine, now, whether you like it or not. And I have allowed you far too much leniency in the past. I want your blood, have wanted it since I first caught your scent, standing scared in the middle of my dancing floor."

Grasping for straws, Rebecca shot back, "I don't want the other employees thinking you hired me to be your donor, Eric. It's not professional and I won't have it."

"Easily solved," he replied. In on swift and fluid motion, Eric had her shirt off and across the room, leaving Rebecca in her bra and panties.

Giving a squeal, Rebecca tried to cover herself, only to have her wrists pinned beside her on the bed. "And _what_ does this solve?" She ground the question out as her anger exploded around her, grinding in her teeth, and shivering down the length of her legs as they kicked at him.

Eric stilled her movements, wedging his knees between her thighs to hold her in place.

"I will take it from here," he said huskily as he traced the rounded edge of her breast, along the seam of her bra. "No one will see the marks."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "They always know when a waitress is sleeping with the boss, Eric. It's not like I can the fact that I'm half drained—pardon the pun—while on my shift."

Arching her towards him, Eric pressed his mouth to her skin, "I will not take much, Rebecca." Then, he looked up at her, his lips hovering just over the skin. Rebecca felt her breath still and her heart pick up the pace, readying her fight or flight instinct.

"I promise it will feel like nothing you've ever felt before."

"I've heard that before," Rebecca replied quietly, knowing she had lost the battle—half resigned to her fate.

Eric leaned up and took her mouth forcefully, rubbing at the skin of her lips and dipping his tongue inside to lick at her. She groaned and reached up with her suddenly free hand to grip at his hair, pulling him closer. If he was going to submit her to pain, she was going to suck every ounce of pleasure from him first. One kiss turned into two, and then three, until they meshed together into one long, burning movement.

His hand trailed down her side to grip her knee and hook it 'round his hip, hitching her ankle to the small of his back. Rebecca's eyes snapped open as she felt him hard against the inside of her thigh, pressing insistently, but seemingly without a pattern, as if he wasn't aware that he was doing it. She kissed him harder, wondering if she could distract him long enough that he would forget to feed. It was a huge risk, and quite a long shot—as she knew very well that vampires equated blood with sex, but Rebecca knew that he was determined to feed from her anyway, so nothing beforehand really mattered. If she could feed his lust enough that he was groggy with it, he might not tear into her so badly.

The kisses turned hotter as Eric shifted his weight to hunch over her, his mouth sliding down her jaw to her throat. He dawdled, pressing open mouthed nips and licks to the skin in slow, grinding procession. Rebecca moaned loud enough that she surprised herself. She had never really been loud in bed, but the feelings that he was evoking played havoc with her senses, and made her almost dizzy. She couldn't tell which way was up or down, anchored to the bed only by the heavy weight of Eric's body.

Feeling him chuckle around her, she decided to play along. Tucking her feet behind Eric's thighs, she brought her hips up, circling them against that hard line muscle she found there, rubbing herself shamelessly against him. She was rewarded with a deep, low growl and a jerking motion of his hips, his hands reaching down to hold her in place for a few, more determined, thrusts.

Eric let out a harsh breath against her breastbone, his hands leaving her hips to slip behind her and unhook her bra. The material slid away and he immediately sucked the skin above her right breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the place gently. Rebecca flinched, but didn't fight him. She knew what was coming and knew that, if she fought, he was likely to drain her dry.

He spent a few more minutes on that spot, running the edges of his fangs over it repeatedly, until the motion become rhythmic and enticing. Unexpectedly, Rebecca found her spine arching, as if offering her chest to him, as if asking him to bear down on her. She felt him smile against her skin. Then, he slid his teeth through the tissue, tearing it so gently that she barely felt it. Still, old habits die hard, and Rebecca cupped the back of his head, ready to pull at him when the time came.

Eric moaned lowly, his breath racing through his nostrils as he drank. The moan shifted at the end, turning desperate as the pull from his mouth got stronger. Rebecca hissed, folding her body forward, looking down. His expression was entirely erotic, his eyes squeezed tight and his brows drawn together as if focusing solely on the taste of her. Another pull, this time with an accompanying movement of his hips. Again, and the motion became a distinct thrust. He drew on her deeper, his thrusts matching in intensity, his hips circling hard.

Breath coming out in gasps, moans, and pants, Rebecca matched his movements, thrust for thrust. Adding her own twists to get just the right friction. She could feel the material of his pants rubbing roughly against the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, could feel his mouth working harder against her skin, trying to get more from her. The sensation sent an electric current right to her core and had her arching up against him, ready to come at the slightest pressure. It built quickly, raking over her until her limbs were jerking hard, steadied only by the desperate rocking of his body, the rhythm gaining speed.

Eric released her, only to grab at her knees to open her wider so that he could gain better leverage. He rolled his body forward, kissing her hard as he worked her over, one hand reaching between them to pull her underwear down. Rebecca bit her lip as she felt him slide two fingers into her, curling them upwards to hit a spot she hadn't thought existed. It sent her into wild abandon, calling his name and every curse word she knew to the ceiling. It took her several moments, still reeling from the shock to realize that while his hand was working her from the inside, his arousal was rubbing insistently across her from the outside, coating the front of his pants with the evidence of her orgasm.

With several short, rough oaths, Eric's motion slowed to a stop, his body relaxing above her. Rebecca tried to catch her breath, not sure if it was over, but not willing to entice him further. She had enough to think about without adding a second round to the agenda.

Eric leaned over her, letting out a purr. His sharp eyes took in her disheveled hair and bright red cheeks with masculine pride. And when she scoffed, he removed his fingers from her still clenching womb and sucked them into his mouth. It was then that the blood loss kicked in, and her vision went black.

When she came to, Eric had changed from his sweats and tee into a black tank top and windbreaker pants and was sitting in a chair he'd pulled up close to the bed. She was still laid out on the bed naked, but her skin was tingling very strangely, as if she could feel every atom of which it consisted.

"You gave me your blood," she surmised.

Eric nodded.

Feeling self-conscious, Rebecca rose to sitting and pulled at the sheet, wrapping it as well as she could around her body. It ran like water over her skin, making her shiver visibly. She could hear the air moving around her, could see every speck of dust as it floated by. And she felt stoned.

"Why?" Rebecca asked, rubbing at her eyes to see if they would become normal again.

Eric shrugged elegantly, "Your heart was slowing."

Raising a brow, she replied, "What happened to 'I won't take much'?"

He gave her a sly smile, "I was… unprepared for how you would taste. You know, I remember once when I raided a town filled with noblemen. They had chocolate brought from the Germanic tribes to our South. You remind me of the way it melted over my tongue."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "I'm sure my blood tastes like any others. Don't try to flatter me; you already got what you wanted."

Eric leaned forward onto his knee, his hands running up the sides of her thighs, pulling the sheet with them until it was bunched around her hips. "I didn't mean your blood." His eyes dropped, and Rebecca blushed hard, feeling every pore on her cheeks warm.

She clamped her knees together and looked away, noticing that the music was pounding at the door. "I suppose it's time for my shift to start."

He rose quickly, taking several steps away from her before shoving his hands in his pockets, his gaze unnerving and severe.

"Bill Compton and Sookie Stackhouse are here to see you." Was all he said, and she couldn't quite place the tone, but she guessed it to be ire.

Rebecca nodded, "I'll get dressed, then." She, too, stood and paced away, circling the bed and looking for her clothes. She found her bra at the end of the bed, but her underwear were nowhere to be found. She leaned down to look underneath the frame, finding nothing. Then, she glanced up at Eric, whose expression had not changed.

He nodded to a table beside the bed, which contained her shirt and shorts. Grimly, she unfolded them, sighing when she found no trace of her underwear. It seemed she would have to look a little more closely at a later time, as she really didn't want to keep Sookie waiting. She hadn't seen her for days and she desperately needed her advice.

As gingerly as she could, Rebecca juggled her clothing and the sheet, using many years worth of knowledge so as to not flash Eric—which seemed counter intuitive, seeing as he had already seen the goods. She could have really used a cigarette right then. It was the first time she'd had a craving since she got to Bon Temps, and it hit her like a freight train, reminding her of every time she'd ever tried to quit and failed.

A familiar set of arms pulled her to a familiar torso and chest, wrapping around her and pulling at the sheet, which had been tucked into the seam of her bra. She shied away from him, but he held her tightly, stilling any attempt to escape.

"I should tell you that you are the most enjoyable meal I've had in fifty years," he mumbled against the skin of her throat.

Rebecca thought about it, then dismissed the statement, "Good. I hope you're sated."

"Not hardly," Eric replied, tongue reaching out to drift along the line of her shoulder.

Scoffing, Rebecca leaned away, "Well, I'm not donating again tonight, so go find someone else."

Eric's grip tightened, caging her, "You wouldn't taste the same, in fact, you'd taste like me. I think I'll wait a few days until the next time."

Feeling tears prick at her eyes, Rebecca struggled against him, pushing as his arms uselessly. "What if I don't want it again? What if I'm sickened by the very thought of it?"

Eric released her, and she sprinted across the room, putting as much space between them as possible, turning to stare him down only when there was nowhere left to go. He returned her stare, an amused chuckle on his lips.

"This isn't funny," she cried helplessly. "I don't want to be your toy anymore than I wanted to be Brandon's. It's why I'm, you know, divorcing him." Her tone turned sarcastic and catty, filled with unfamiliar malice. The thought did occur to her that she was reacting hard to the blood coursing through her system, but she pushed it away, determined to think about it later.

He stalked towards her, eyes taking a predatory gleam, "He will not touch you again, I can promise you that."

Rebecca's expression turned incredulous, "What the hell is going on here, Eric. I'm confused, and I'm scared—,"

"I can feel that," he shot back.

"Then, you know that you invading my personal space is just making it worse."

He stopped inches from her, indicating that this was all the space she was going to get. She leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. It seemed impossible that she would be standing in the middle of a bedroom with him, shorts hanging off her hips, no underwear, and a bra. If someone had told her a month that she'd be end out just like this, she would have laughed and wondered just what they had been smoking and where she could get some.

Tiredly, she rubbed at her forehead, shrugging when Eric raised his brows. "I shouldn't keep them waiting."

Eric moved to the side and allowed her to pass. As she walked, she zipped up her shorts and reached for her shirt, which she'd flung over the side of the bed. When she'd pulled it on, she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops waiting by the side table, looking to Eric to indicate that she was ready.

In silence, they exited the room together, Eric moving inches behind her, a steady presence at her back.

**So, yeah, that happened. I know it seems a little fast, but you really have to remember that Eric is a little bit of a man-whore. His mission in life is to bed as many people as possible. And honestly, Rebecca doesn't stand a chance. **

Let me know what y'all think!


	9. Chapter 9

**So, I know its been a while since I last posted, but I hope this chapter will make up for it. The plot is moving forward and will probably pick up speed in the next few chapters as we head towards Rebecca's hearing, etc. **

Reviews=LOVE!

Sookie looked absolutely radiant, and Rebecca felt herself touch her hair mindlessly, pulling it into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. She knew she looked ragged, and probably smelled of Eric and sex, but she figured it didn't matter. All that mattered was that her friend was nearby, and there was a safe haven with her.

"Sookie!" She called, practically running into the blonde's arms, gripping her around the shoulders as tight as she could without hurting her. "I'm so glad you're here."

Sookie smiled beatifically, then narrowed her eyes at Eric, who Rebecca could feel standing nearby.

"I had to make sure he was treating you right. He is, right?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "Not a whit, but I'm not dead yet, so that's a plus."

Sookie's eyes softened and she placed her hand on Rebecca's forehead, "You don't look like you've slept."

Shrugging, Rebecca lowered her gaze, "I'm not tired, honestly." And she wasn't. Eric's blood was making her distracted and hot, as if her body had a fever, but without the disorientation and general gross feeling. Her skin felt electrified, potent, and greedy. There was nothing that she wanted more than to join the dancers on the floor and swing her hips and hair to the beat of the music that she swore pounded to the rhythm of her heart.

Sookie was saying something that she didn't quite catch, but what Rebecca did catch was the disapproving look Bill was giving her, his eyes telling her that he could very well smell that what Eric had done and that he didn't approve. Rebecca blushed and turned away, jerking her head to indicate that Sookie should follow her to one of the more private booths.

Sliding in, Rebecca tried to follow the line of Sookie's conversation. The girl was telling her that Lafayette was missing and the things were rocky with her and Tara and that Sam had, had to fire one more girl and they were really swamped for waitresses. She understood every word, but comprehension never came. Rebecca settled for nodding at all the right times and trying not to notice that Eric had finally seated himself upon his throne and was staring at them from a distance.

Meanwhile, Bill continued to give her a look that clearly read, 'I know what you did.' Rebecca avoided his gaze as much as possible, but it became inevitable when he said, "Brandon visited me last night. It is what prompted this visit."

Rebecca looked to her friend, "Sam, too," Sookie said, "I was on my shift—he threatened the whole staff to find out where you were."

Eyes widening, Rebecca asked, "Does he know?"

Sookie nodded, "Sam told him after he made Arlene cry."

"Son of a bitch," Rebecca breathed. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Ye of little faith," came a voice brushing over her left ear. Rebecca shivered, but couldn't pull much away as the wall was blocking her path.

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca shrugged to no one in particular and wished she had a drink to casually sip on. It would take her mind off the strange, fuzzy vibration she felt whenever Eric got too close.

"So," Eric said, as he settled into the seat, one hand nonchalantly perched on Rebecca's knee. "Brandon has been searching for Rebecca. I'm surprised. I haven't kept it a secret that she's with me."

There was a little too much emphasis on the last two words of his sentence for Rebecca's taste, but she knew very well that he, given the chance, would air out all their dirty laundry, just to make a point or to preen in front of Bill. Their rivalry was too intense to go unnoticed, and Eric had a nasty habit of rising to a challenge.

Instead, she replied, "Brandon doesn't run with a nest, Eric. Never has. He's always been a little too stubborn for that—even his Maker didn't want him."

"Which is why he wants to hold on to you."

Rebecca shrugged again, and tried not to feel sympathy for the man who almost killed her, "I suppose."

There was an awkward, heady silence, with Eric stroking Rebecca's knee and Sookie giving her a soft look. She sighed, suddenly exhausted despite the blood pounding in her veins, desperate for her to jump out of the booth and run in to the night.

"I guess it's time for my shift to start," Rebecca murmured for the second time that night. The bed and the bite seemed hours ago, a lifetime away, across an ocean of ire and sadness. She just wanted to do her job and go to bed—rinse and repeat until the hearing was over and she was no longer married. She wanted to hide beneath the covers of the dark room until the world stopped being completely crazy and her life slowed to a crawl. She wanted Eric to stop those damnable circles at her knee. But, the room spun faster despite her needs, the people moving in blurred, exotic paces—her skin too sensitized, her mind reeling from overstimulation and exhaustion. She just wanted it all to stop!

Rebecca hadn't realized the she'd actually yelled the word until the whole table was staring at her, eyebrows riding high on their foreheads. Sheepishly, she ducked her head.

"Sorry. Just… got a little overwhelmed."

"I bet," Sookie replied wryly, and Rebecca suddenly recalled that she could hear every thought in her head.

Narrowing her eyes, Rebecca said very slowly. "If you don't stay out of my mind, I'll tell Bill every detail about your first date."

"You wouldn't," She shot back.

"Totally would," Rebecca smirked.

Sookie sighed, "I want you to come back. Bill said you could stay with him if you don't want anyone to get hurt—you could meet Jessica, and I promise you'll be safe."

When Rebecca hesitated, Sookie powered forward. "You don't owe him anything."

The hand that had been making distracting little circles on her knee froze.

"Rebecca, go start your shift." Eric rose and, more gently than she thought possible, lifted her bodily out of the booth. When she, yet again hesitated, he gave her a firm swat on the bottom and shoved her to the bar.

Ginger gave her a questioning glance as she put on her apron. Rebecca shrugged, pretending to be oblivious. It had worked in the past, and she knew it would continue to work as long as she kept her act together. She didn't need the resentment of the wait staff along with Brandon breathing down her neck.

After a few minutes, Rebecca saw Sookie head for the door. Rebecca waved her off when she mimed for Rebecca to 'call her'; going for carefree, but wondering if she would ever be able to pull it off with any kind of sincerity.

The night undulated along, stopping to pick up more customers, victims, and drug users along the way. Rebecca, for once, didn't have to ward off lascivious advances from hungry vamps. And for that she was entirely grateful. She felt that she could lash out at any moment—her blood was boiling in her veins—and she didn't want any more drama in her life, especially not of the vampire persuasion.

Rebecca ran herself ragged, making drinks, avoiding Eric _and_ Pam, and juggling the incessant lines of questioning from staff. Even with the infusion of blood, she was exhausted by closing time.

The tables, bar, and chairs were wiped down, the floor mopped, that bathrooms cleansed of the blood splatter from an overzealous feeding. And, most of all, Rebecca was ushered into the back room.

If she hadn't been longing for a bed for hours, she would have fought a little harder. As it was, she flung her body prostrate across the covers. She was half asleep when a piercing cry sounded through the room.

Startled, Rebecca launched from the bed and scrambled until her back hit a wall. She stayed like that for several minutes, listening to raised voices and more screams punctuated by crying. Rebecca's heart pounded, she'd heard that particular sniffle before.

"Sookie," Rebecca whispered, yanking her body up and sprinting to the door. Thanking God it was unlocked; she tumbled through it and into the hall, moving frantically in the direction of her friend.

As she barreled through to the club, she was caught around the waist by a pair of liquid fast arms. Rebecca struggled, watching with wide eyes as Sookie was being worked on by and aged quack-woman. Sookie had passed out, she was grateful for that, but the smell of acrid burning flesh still permeated the room. It caught in Rebecca's throat and nearly choked her. Still, she struggled.

The grip around her chest tightened until she was struggling to breathe. Her mouth opened and closed for air that did not come and she thrashed her legs in vain. Spots appeared in front of her eyes and a strange not-unpleasant tingle of finality ran across her skin, her eyes glued to Sookie's prone form. The world blurred into shifting, acrid bodies and Rebecca allowed herself to lose consciousness.

When she came to, Sookie was staring Eric down in defiance, her chin lowered, jaw set in a way that Rebecca knew would either earn her, her way, or essentially get them all killed—she wasn't sure which. What she was sure of was that her chest ached and her head throbbed and her whole world was tipping aimlessly around, making her dizzy. She rolled to sitting and spied a pair of aspirin and a glass of water nearby. She downed the pills, and began to focus on the argument.

The words volleyed from one side to the other, almost faster than she could catch them. She listened to them listlessly, until Lafayette's name came hurtling toward her. Rebecca leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. Eric had kidnapped him for selling V. He was here, and he was hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut.

_No more lies_, she thought, rising. She stumbled a bit, but caught her balance. Then, she shuffled away while everyone else busied themselves with money.

Keeping one hand on the wall for balance, Rebecca headed back towards the bedroom. She only made it halfway, as Pam was standing in the middle of the hall holding a souvenir Fangtasia bag.

"I packed for you," She sighed, tossing the bag at her. Rebecca caught it, stumbling slightly. She gave Pam a questioning glance.

"Thought once you heard about your little friend, you'd up and run again. That _does_ seem to be your pattern."

Rebecca's lip curled, "Thanks, and I hate you."

Pam smirked, "The feeling is mutual, Becky."

"Rebecca," she murmured back, already turning away to amble down the hall and back out to the main floor.

Sookie rushed her as soon as she saw her, trying to help her to a nearby seat. Rebecca shook her head, changing directions.

"To the door," she said, holding at the growing ache in her chest.

From behind her, Eric said, "Your shift starts at ten tomorrow."

Rebecca paused, fuming, "Three things; I quit, you're an asshole, and fuck you." She wheezed the last few words, but her meaning was clear. She wanted nothing to do with him for the rest of her life. She'd rather spend the next few months shacked up in Sookie's house than stay another second with him.

Before she could take another step, Eric was looming over her, face hardened to stone. He gripped her chin in his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him.

"Three things; No, you don't, sometimes, and I'd love to," he said lowly.

Rebecca jerked her chin away, glancing at Sookie, who was still supporting her with an arm around her shoulder.

"In your dreams," she sneered, gaining no strength from the surprised look on her friend's face.

She felt Eric lean in close, as was his habit when trying to intimidate. He brushed the hair from her neck, and she tried not to flinch.

"Or in yours," he near-whispered.

Rebecca whipped her face around so quickly, she almost smashed her nose against his chin. Her eyebrows hit her hairline as she gaped at his audacity. Eric smiled at her reaction, and Rebecca snapped. Her hand made contact before her brain could catch up and tell her that this was a terrible idea.

There was about a nano-second of silence before a growl built in Eric's chest and she was flying through the air. Her back hit something solid, knocking the very breath from her lungs. She choked on it, dry-heaving.

It took her a moment, but she eventually realized that she was laying flat on the bar and Eric was to her left, palms flat beside her head—her aching, pounding head. He was visibly trying to calm himself and she was visibly trying not to throw up. She tried to hoist herself up so she could reach for the trash can behind the bar, but Eric pushed her back down with a palm to her chest.

Rebecca let out a startled shriek as tears pricked at her eyes. Her whole abdomen burned with a lancing pain and any attempt at curling into the fetal position was immediately revoked by Eric's hand—which had gentled on her torso.

She calmed, refraining from sobbing, as she so wanted to do, and lay looking up at the ceiling—noting for the first time that there was red glitter in the paint. Eric slid his hand downward and slipped the pads of his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. Rebecca panicked, trying to hold the material down, already feeling out of control and violated enough for the night.

Having none of it, Eric yanked her wrists up and over her head, earning another shriek. He lifted her shirt to expose her wounded ribs.

"Pam," he said quietly.

Rebecca could head an answering click of heels over her labored breathing. Eric's grip on her wrists loosened and disappeared. She turned to her side and pushed her body unsteadily to sitting. When her vision cleared, Rebecca watched Eric threaten Pam, one hand wrapped around her delicate neck. He was speaking too softly for her to hear, but his tone was quite clearly a warning.

She rubbed at her wrists, and thought about how she was going to get down. Bill was holding Sookie back, his arms holding her to his chest. She tried to slide off the bar, but flinched in renewed pain. The point, however, seemed to be moot as Eric strolled back to her before she could devise a plan.

For once, the height differential between them counted for nothing. In fact, her perch on the bar, precarious as it was, made her an inch taller than Eric—a small, but savored victory. He put his hands on his hips and coked his head to the side.

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked in mock seriousness.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "Nothing. I'm done accepting your help."

"Ungrateful," he growled.

Rebecca tried to laugh, but ended out wheezing in pain. "You… kidnap and torture my friend, have your," she coughed, "Henchman squeeze the ever-loving life out of me, and expect me to be grateful."

Eric stepped forward and she marveled at actually being able to look_ down_ at him.

"I saved your life," he argued. "I could have left you to overdose on the floor of Sookie's house, could have left you to die in the parking lot after Brandon tried to tear you to pieces."

Rebecca swallowed, "But then you wouldn't be doing your job as Sheriff. A vengeful vampire kills his wife for trying to leave an abusive marriage." She leveled a sardonic look at him. "Doesn't look good for the main-streaming movement."

He moved, and she jerked, wincing. Holding a hand to her side, she focused on breathing, pulling her feet to rest on the lip of the bar.

"You aren't helping matters," Eric said.

"Neither are you," she shot back.

Suddenly, his chest was pressing against the front of her knees and calves, and he was smiling. She hated that smile—that self-satisfied smirk that meant he thought he was winning.

"Then," he supplied, offering his wrist, "Allow me."

Rebecca batted his hand away. "You've helped enough, thank you." She pulled her arms around her thighs, hugging them close despite the influx of pain.

At this, Eric seemed to become exasperated. He tugged her arms down, pulled her feet from the bar, and hauled her ass to the edge. Then, he set his mouth in a firm line.

"Do you always oscillate from one emotion to the next? You say I'm not helping, and when I make an attempt, you swat it away. Honestly, woman, I don't know why Brandon even bothers to hunt you down."

Stung, Rebecca could only swallow back the lump in her throat and try not to cry. Her body ached, her mind didn't want to process any more information, and he was being what she called in her childhood a 'big ol' meanie.'

"Don't cry," Eric ordered.

Rebecca hiccupped, "I can't help it."

"Try," he replied.

She turned her head away and scoffed. "Human, remember? I can't turn off my emotions like you."

There was beat of silence, then, "Come with me to Dallas."

"What?" Rebecca asked, her voice breaking.

"It will be good for you to get away for a while," was all he said in a way of explanation.

Rebecca raised a brow, "Is this you trying to help?"

A pause, then, "Yes."

"I don't have the money," she replied, looking over his shoulder to Sookie, who had her mouth hanging open.

"I will cover the expenses."

"That's an awfully big apology," Rebecca said.

He blinked, "It's not an apology. I am simply making up for… an error in judgment."

Rebecca smiled, "Apology."

"I will not debate semantics with you, Rebecca. Yes or no?"

"Can I think about it?"

"No."

"Why not?" She shot back.

Eric smirked, "Limited time offer." The expression in his eyes changed subtly, growing sharper and brighter at the same time.

She went warm all over, felt her body relax some of the tension in her muscles.

"Okay," she breathed. "But I'm going to Sookie's tonight."

Eric shook his head, "Not in your condition."

Rebecca sighed, "I'm fine."

"You have two broken ribs." He lowered his chin, his eye dilating with power.

"I'm fine," she edged out, feeling her breath speed along with her heart.

"Bullshit," He called out. "You wince every time you breathe. I would be remiss in my duties if I let you walk out like that."

His voice had taken on a dreamy quality that made her mouth dry and her mind foggy. Suddenly, every breath felt saturated with him and she couldn't look away to gather her wits. And she couldn't find it in herself to care. Even the now-constant pain seemed to ebb away. She blinked stupidly, losing the line of the conversation, losing sight of him, even.

After a moment, she realized that she had closed her eyes. It was a struggle to open them. Everything seemed to be a struggle—she was amazed that she was upright. Upon contemplation, she found that she was being held up by Eric's hand at her back. She made one fruitless attempt to push him away, her eyes closing again tiredly, head lolling forward to flop against his shoulder. She was just so tired. It had been too long of a day for her to simply keep going.

Eric shifted and she let out a noise of protest which continued as he lifted her head and place his bleeding wrist at her mouth. She shied away, shaking her head.

"I don't want it," She slurred.

He chuckled lowly, "Yes, you do."

"No…" Rebecca replied, working at keeping her eyes open.

Eric forced her to focus on him, she realized she was having difficulty breathing and the pain was starting the return tide into her system.

"Do you want to go home?" He asked. She nodded. "Then, you will take this and heal, or I will spend all day tomorrow with you locked in my sleeping place." He offered her his wrist again. "Take it."

That fuzzy, complacent feeling came back and Rebecca allowed her attention to shift from Eric's triumphant face to his bleeding wrist. It pulsed in her vision and she suddenly wanted it with an entirely unfamiliar kind of hunger. She lunged at it, greedily gulping down as much of it as possible before he inevitably pulled away.

In the distance, she could hear voices and growling, bodies and a single heartbeat. Her vision swam red currents of blood, her skin exploding with firing nerves and impulses. None of that mattered. All that she focused on was getting more, and it seemed Eric was willing to allow it for the moment.

However, he had to push her away, and when he did, she whined like an infant. She was high—she had to be. As it was the first time she'd ingested V while fully aware, she understood why so many people got hooked on it. Rebecca giggled, throwing her arms back at the sensation of flying without liftoff. Everything from her teeth to her fingernails, to the tips of each individual strand of hair tingled with sensation. She sighed, pleased. Then, she sighed again, reveling in the ability to take a deep breath for the first time since she awoke. She inhaled over and over again, feeling every molecule of air as it passed through her lungs and into her blood-stream, carrying the oxygen as it went. She laughed.

Eric, who had been saying something over his shoulder, returned his attention to her. He looked her over, shaking his head.

"What?" Rebecca asked.

"The simplest things please you," he said. Then, "You took more last time." She blushed, remembering _why _she had to take so much—he'd nearly drained her dry.

"Maybe you should learn from my example when feeding—you know, less is more." She felt a little flirtatious, probably a by-product of the V. But Eric seemed to take it in stride, flashing a 200 watt grin.

"So I've been told," he replied.

She lifted a brow, "Hear that often, do you?"

Eric leaned very close, rubbing his bottom lip over her jaw line. "Would you like to find out first-hand? I have all day."

Rebecca gasped as his hands traced a path from knee to hip and back, his touch fairly pulsing with power. She tried to answer, really, she did, but her focus shifted solely to not coming all over the bar at that very moment. She squirmed a little, and Eric glanced down knowingly.

"So responsive," he murmured, nudging her head to the side and pressing his body closer.

Suddenly, Sookie's voice came hurtling through her lust-induced fog. "Rebecca, we have to leave, right now."

Rebecca flinched, startled out her thoughts but the pervasive conclusion that Sookie had seen her drink Eric's blood, had seen her fight him, and…do something else so cavalierly. She leaned back, trying to put space between her and the object of her distraction.

Eric gripped her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him, "Stay. I'm not finished with you yet."

Rebecca sighed, wondering just what he had in mind. Sookie shouted again, and she shook her head. "I can't stay here tonight. There's too much going on up here." She pointed to her head. "I need to go somewhere and try to work out how I feel about what you did to Lafayette, what you did to me."

She could see the wheels turning in his head, a plan half-formed already. Rebecca shook her head, telling him silently not to bother. He nodded.

"One for the road?" He asked.

Before Rebecca could reply with 'one more _what_ for the road', Eric was licking a trail of his own blood that had leaked from her neck to her jaw to trace a line around her mouth. His tongue, somehow more supple when his fangs lowered, touched gently at her lips, teasing her, making her want to throw herself at him. And then he was helping her down from the bar and leading her out of the club and into the parking lot. The door was shut and they were half-way home before Rebecca finally came back to herself.

Sookie and Bill were arguing. "He would have had sex with her right on the bar and you would have let him."

"He commanded me not to let you interfere. It was for your safety."

"He glamoured her into drinking his blood, Bill. That's wrong, and you know it."

"Sookie, that wasn't the first time—,"

"I know, in the parking lot."

"No, she'd had his blood already; I smelled it when we saw her earlier. She smelled like Eric and sex, Sookie."

There was a palpable silence, and then Rebecca slammed her hand into the fabric of the seat behind her, shouting, "That son of a bitch. He glamoured me!"

Bill and Sookie both turned to look at her fuming body.

"Welcome back to the land of the cognizant, Rebecca," Sookie taunted lightly.

Rebecca laughed mirthlessly, then said, "Bill, I need your phone. I assume you have Eric's number."

Bill tossed his phone back and Rebecca searched through the contacts list until she came to Eric's name. She dialed the number and got his voicemail.

"I bet you think you're really funny, glamouring me like that. You have no idea how pissed I am at you right now. A raging bear is going to look cuddly compared to how I'm feeling. We'll talk about this later. Don't try to contact me, I'll see you in Dallas."

Sookie shot her a sideways glance, "You're still going to Dallas."

"Yep, and I'm going to order room service every night, and champagne up the wazoo. He's footing the bill, after all."


	10. Chapter 10

**Onward!**

Rebecca tossed and turned for the rest of the short night, sweating through her clothes and the bed sheets. Everything around her was a distraction—from the shadows on the wall to the feeling of the comforter weighing her down. She huffed angrily as the sun filtered in through the window, striking at the ceiling, wall, and floor beside the bed. Then, she rolled from the bed and shuffled into the shower, stripping off clothes as she went.

It took her an hour and a half to finish cleaning herself up, as she couldn't help but to watch, mesmerized, as each individual drop rolled across her skin and dropped to the floor of the tub before swirling in a never ending vortex down the drain. Then, she couldn't get over the feeling of the loofa as it scraped away the visible dead skin cells along her body. She finally had to force herself to step out when the water went cold.

After toweling off for fifteen minutes, Rebecca dug through her souvenir bag, finding her underwear and spare bra along with a tank top and shorts that had definitely seen better days. The shorts were made of a coarse material that scratched against her thighs while she walked—but, seeing as she had no other alternative other than her Fangtasia wardrobe (it was too hot for jeans), she decided she would suck it up and deal.

Downstairs, she poured herself a bowl of cereal, but quickly disposed of it as she could taste the preservatives and the overabundance of sugar in the molecules of the grains. As a substitute, she grabbed an apple from the bowl in the center of the dining room table, munching on it as she made her way into the TV room. Flipping through the channels, she quickly grew restless and bored. There was nothing that could hold her attention for long—the colors, so much less vibrant than real life, the acting seeming forced, cheesy. Rebecca clicked off the television and slumped on the couch. She couldn't sleep, didn't want to eat, and wasn't entertained by the TV. What else was there to do?

Her eyes flicked to the books on the shelf, but she nixed the idea immediately. Her body was buzzing with restrained energy, and she knew that her focus would not hold onto the words. That left… not much. She could go for a run, but Rebecca had, had enough with interacting with people for the moment, and she highly doubted that the streets would be vacant now that the sun had fully risen. The summer air hung heavily as is moved through the room, coating her with an uncomfortable layer of heat. Rebecca stared at the dust as it passed by her. She sighed.

"Bored already?"

Rebecca jerked upwards to find Eric leaning against the banister of the stairs. She choked on her answer, eyes flicking to the patches of sunlight that filtered off his beatific face.

Suddenly, he was beside her on the couch, "You know, I could… relieve that boredom for a while." His hand slid up her thigh, fingers reaching beneath the hem of her boxers. Rebecca felt her heart jumpstart into a pounding rhythm as her mouth suddenly went dry. Those probing digits teased in slow circles, a smirk making its way across his face.

Rebecca blinked, and he was gone. She cursed, reminding herself that hallucinations were going to be a side effect of ingesting massive amounts of his blood since she'd met him. It had taken what seemed like forever for Brandon's ghost to quit following her around, and she had only taken from him the one time—right after the hospital. It had only been a mouthful to get her off the IV so he could take her home before the police came by. Eric… well, there was the parking lot, after he bit her, and then on the bar…. So, three transfusions of his blood. Rebecca groaned loudly, three times as much time of Eric popping up wherever she went with his damnable suggestive comments.

"Great," she breathed, flinging her arm over her eyes. "Just what I needed."

"What is just what you needed?" Sookie said, strolling down the stairs.

Rebecca looked up over the arm of the couch. Sookie was dressed in her waitressing uniform, pulling her hair into a bouncing ponytail on her head.

"Nothing," Rebecca replied, yanking her body to standing.

Sookie gave her a long, sympathetic look, and Rebecca knew that she was attempting to be patient and not to read her mind. As grateful as Rebecca was the Sookie had come to get her from Eric's grasp, she didn't necessarily think she wanted to share the details of her daydreams. She almost didn't want to share them with her own mind. He pissed her off, made her want to be every bit as violent with him as Brandon had been with her—he also made her want to have the first one night stand of her life while simultaneously committing adultery. She mentally shook her head; she was still a married woman, even though she despised her husband. And she was going to abide by those vows, even if she had to pass up an opportunity as tantalizing as Eric.

"So, work?" Rebecca quipped, changing the subject.

Sookie smiled, "Yeah. I'll be gone for a few hours, but I'll be back before sunset, and Bill will be here tonight so we can talk about Dallas."

Rebecca nodded. Sookie was going to use Bill as a bodyguard in case Eric decided to retaliate against the phone call she had made the previous night. She mentally smacked herself, not knowing what she had been thinking. The shock of being glamoured and the heat of Eric's blood had made her impulsive and angry. And she had no doubt he was devising many numerous ways for her to pay for it as he rested beneath the ground. The thought of Eric's morbid sense of humor and the possible repercussions made her shiver.

After seeing her friend off, Rebecca stood in the middle of the living room, turning in small circles. As she turned, Rebecca decided the place could use a little cleaning up, and, given the fact that she was nearly bursting with energy; she could clean the house as a thank you for Sookie taking her in off the street and giving her a place to stay.

Digging through the cupboards, Rebecca found the bucket she had used to clean to blood off the front of the house. It had been stained a dull pink color, but was still useable. Then, she filled it with water and soap, and got to work. The floors received a thorough scrubbing, and the walls, too. The ceiling fans were dusted and the stairs swept and mopped. The carpets were vacuumed and the windows wiped clean. Rebecca saved the bathroom for last, pulling on rubber gloves to tackle the massive amounts of porcelain.

By the time she heard Sookie calling up from the front door, Rebecca had cleaned the entire house, and felt only slightly fatigued. She looked up to the window and noted that there was still two or three hours of daylight left. Rebecca sighed, pulling off her gloves and calling down to her friend. She would need another shower, but she vowed that this one would be no more than ten minutes.

Discreetly, she crept downstairs and plucked the egg timer off the window sill shoved it into the folds of her shirt. Change of clothes at the ready, she set the timer and rushed through her shower routine. The water helped wash away the dust and grime from being on her knees scrubbing all day, and a fresh dousing of body wash left her feeling refreshed. Rebecca had just turned off the water when the timer dinged. She gave herself a mental pat on the back as she dressed, wringing out her dripping hair with the towel.

Barefoot and damp, Rebecca descended the stairs to something that smelled marvelous. She wandered into the kitchen as Sookie pulled out two foil-wrapped dinners from the oven.

"Courtesy of Lafayette," she said, unwrapping them. Inside were two corn cobs and an assortment of vegetables.

Rebecca salivated. "How is he?" She asked as she gathered some utensils.

Sookie shook her head, "Not well. He's pretty shaken up, and he won't tell me what they did to him."

Feeling her chest begin to ache with guilt, Rebecca suddenly lost her appetite. Sookie placed her hand on her arm, "He doesn't blame you. Rebecca, he got caught selling V. That's punishable by death for vampires. He's lucky to be alive."

Rebecca sneered, "I bet Eric thinks he was being lenient with him, the bastard."

Sookie looked away, "It was cruel, whatever he did. But I'm just glad Lafayette's alive."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Rebecca made an extensive effort not to cry, "Me, too. I should go see him."

Sookie set down their plates, "Why don't you wait until tomorrow night. We have a lot of ground to cover tonight. And I have someone I would like for you to meet."

Rebecca raised a brow, "Sookie, I don't know if I can handle meeting any more of your friends."

She laughed, smiling widely, "Let's just say that this one is next to harmless."

Taking a bite, Rebecca rolled her eyes, "I'll believe that when I see it."

The sun hadn't set for more than a minute when a knock sounded at the door. Sookie hopped up from her position on the couch to answer it and Rebecca closed the book she had finally settled down enough to read. In walked Bill Compton and a young, fresh-faced teenager. Rebecca tensed, sensing unconsciously that she was a vampire.

"Relax," Bill said, holding up a hand, "She won't hurt you. Rebecca, this is my child, Jessica."

Rebecca stood, folding her hands in front of her and calling upon every piece of ingrained Southern Etiquette she had to offer. "It's very nice to meet you," she said simply.

Jessica smiled a very small smile, "Nice to meet you, too."

They stood there for a few minutes in awkward silence, until Sookie invited Bill and Jessica to sit down. Then, she filled the emptiness with asking Bill questions about what their trip to Dallas would be like. Bill answered each with concise, easy to swallow answers, while Rebecca and Jessica emitted similar sighs of boredom. Rebecca glanced up at the girl, raising a brow. Jessica looked exactly as she had a few years back, sitting on the couch of her parent's house, listening to them drone on and on about how things were going to be once she hit college, once she married, once she had kids. It was exhausting work, listening to one's whole life being planned out for you. And Jessica looked positively fatigued.

Standing, she jerked her head to the side, intimating that Jessica could follow. As she walked from the room, she shot Sookie a wink. They needed to talk, and Rebecca wanted some amusement—everyone was happy.

"So, Jessica, what do you like to do?" Rebecca asked as they climbed the stairs.

Jessica followed her eagerly, "I don't know, listen to music."

Rebecca glanced back at her with raised brows, "Really? What kind?"

The girl shrugged, "I don't know. I wasn't allowed to listen to secular music while with my parents, and all Bill listens to is old timey crap from, like, the twenties."

Chuckling, Rebecca led Jessica to her room and reached underneath the bed for her duffel. Then, she pulled out two CD's.

"Here, let's try these to see if you like them. I'll burn you a copy if you do."

Inserting the first CD into the stereo, Rebecca pressed play and the sounds of Lady Gaga's "Just Dance" filled the room. Jessica listened for a few minutes, bobbing her head along, smiling at one lyric or another. The song finished and 'Lovegame' followed. This pattern continued until they had listened to the entire CD, both of them flung back on the bed, toes bopping to the beat.

Rebecca rose to put in the next CD, Kesha, and then returned to her original spot. They rolled through the tracks on that CD, and when silence filled the room again, Jessica hopped up and switched them out.

"You got any more like this?" She asked.

Rebecca shook her head, "My husband got just about everything else when I left him. I didn't really have time to pack. Those were just the CD's that were in my car when I took off."

Jessica cocked her head to the side, "Was he a bad man?"

"Yes," Rebecca replied, nodding.

"I could kill him."

Rebecca barked out a laugh, "He's a vampire, Jessica. Not a very old one, but older than you. Besides, I want to divorce him before someone decides to take his head off."

"I had thought slow torture would be a better method."

Rebecca let out a shriek and Jessica hissed at the form hanging outside Rebecca's window.

"What, the fuck, Eric?" Rebecca called, grasping her chest to slow her heart.

Bill flew in, fangs out, body moving in front of Jessica to protect his child. Sookie ran in next, breathing hard. And still, Eric looked unmoved, patiently waiting for the tension to cool a bit as everyone calmed down.

"We have something to discuss," he said, giving Rebecca a pointed look.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, "No, I don't think we do. I'd appreciate it if you left me alone until the trip to Dallas."

Eric's head cocked to the side, "Perhaps this would be better discussed away from prying eyes. I will meet you on the porch."

Rebecca stared at the empty window, jaw hanging loose in shock. And then her eyes narrowed to slits in undisguised anger. She turned, huffing, and stomped past the incredulous crowd at her back, down the stairs, and to the front door. Then, she counted to ten to calm her exasperation. It took two tries, but she eventually cooled down enough that she didn't slam open the door and repeat the running dialogue of insults aimed at Eric's dignity.

Instead, she calmly opened the door, holding it open. Leaning out onto the porch, Rebecca spotted Eric standing on the first stair, his back to her. She cleared her throat, letting go of the door to fold her arms across her chest.

"You wanted to talk?" She asked, her expression defensive and hard.

Eric turned, and the moonlight glinted off the blonde of his hair. Standing in the doorway, Rebecca had to remind herself that, despite his appearance, Eric had threatened, blackmailed, and rough-housed his way to where they were right now—she wanted none of that.

Holding out his hand, Eric smiled, "Let's take a walk."

Rebecca had to grip her biceps tightly to stop her instinctive forward motion. "No, I think we're fine talking right here."

With slow, cautious movements, Eric closed the space between them. "You don't trust me?"

"Not at all," Rebecca replied seriously.

His expression cooled, "Well, that's a problem."

"Really?" Rebecca countered, leaning her shoulder on the sill of the door. "Because I think it's a solution. Every time I've trusted you so far, I've been beat all to hell."

Eric shook his head marginally, "Ah, ah, ah. You got yourself into those messes. I just pulled you out, gracious host that I am."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "You go on thinking that. You know, I'm beginning to think that this trip was a bad idea."

She flinched when a hiss escaped his lips before he could collect himself. He smoothed his features carefully, bracing his body on either side of the frame, pushing against the solid air between them. Rebecca swallowed at the sudden invasion of her space, but she refused to back down. She still had the doorway between them, and that would be enough to stop him.

"On the contrary," he said genially, "I think it's the best damn idea I've ever had." He blinked slowly, his pupils dilating. "Come outside and talk to me like a civilized person."

"Okay," Rebecca breathed, stepping from the doorway into the muggy night air. It clung to her skin like a heavy winter coat, leeching the energy from her body. Rebecca felt the weight of it pressing on her chest, making it hard to take full, cleansing breaths. Even worse, she couldn't take her eyes from Eric's haunting face. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized the thrall, but couldn't—or wouldn't—fight it. Rebecca was tired of struggling against him, and it was a fight she was destined to lose.

Eric was a hundred times stronger than her—and far more experienced in getting what he wanted. The thought angered her, made her blood turn hot and race through her veins. She pushed angrily at her lethargy.

"You can't keep doing this just to get what you want," Rebecca bit out even as her feet strolled forward through the door.

"And you can't keep running from every situation that makes you uncomfortable," Eric replied lazily, leading her with gentle pushes down the stairs of the porch. "I have told you I wouldn't harm you, and I have kept that promise. Honestly, it is I who should be offended by your behavior."  
>Rebecca scoffed, "Really? Because a couple of my ribs would like to rebut that statement."<p>

"I have healed those wounds, have I not? I have freely given of my blood, sacred blood, so that you would be safe. Is that not generous of me?"

Inhaling her frustrations, Rebecca rubbed at her head, "Let me out of the glamour, Eric." The fog of her mind lifted and her will of movement returned without a second thought. She noticed that they had made it to the edge of the woods, where the cover of darkness hid them from the lights of the street. She leaned heavily against a tree and looked at Eric.

"What is it that you want?" She asked.

He tilted his head to the side, studying her for a moment, "I want you to trust me. We cannot get through this trip to Dallas if you won't trust me."  
>Rebecca swallowed back an angry retort, "I don't even know why I'm going to Dallas anyways. I'll just be in the way."<br>"You're right, you will be in the way. However, I have told you that I will protect you, and I can't very well do that from another state."

"You're being serious." Rebecca said more than asked.

"Deathly," Eric replied without a hint of amusement. Rebecca nodded. "Then, we will start from the beginning. Come back with me and we'll get you ready and packed."

Rebecca shook her head, "I can't. I need to get my head straight."

Eric strode forward, leaning close, "And there is nothing I can do to change your mind?"

Not trusting her voice, Rebecca shook her head again, ducking his gaze. She couldn't take the risk of being glamoured again and then ending out right where she started.

"Well, then, good night," he whispered softly. Rebecca hazarded a glance at him, and immediately regretted it. The moonlight glinted off his pale skin and shimmered in his hair. He looked like a living statue, a masterpiece she'd seen once in a museum. Everything about him was perfect, down to the flush of his eyelashes against his cheek as he blinked. Nothing about him in this moment seemed real.

"Good night," she managed in a croak.

With slow, deliberate movements, Eric leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was the softest she had ever received, his arms around her a gentle embrace. Rebecca allowed herself to enjoy it for what it was, a good night kiss. Even if she didn't necessarily like him, and he didn't necessarily have the best intentions, she was determined to enjoy this one kiss.

He left her on the porch, still not sure what the hell just happened, but feeling like something had changed. It was entirely possible that the change had only occurred within her body, but the alteration was irrevocable. She sat on the stairs of the porch, looking out into the night. It suddenly didn't feel quite as terrifying as it had before.

**A little bit of the softer side of Eric. We'll see just a bit more of it in Dallas, right before the shit hits the fan.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here is a little bit shorter chapter to segue us into the "Dallas Episode," as I like to call it. XD**

Rebecca spent the next few days studiously avoiding everyone she knew, except for LaFayette, whom she berated gently for his part in his kidnapping. She stayed with him as long as she could, helping out around the house and babying him as was her way. He didn't take her help with grace—in fact, he shooed her off whenever he could with biting remarks and sarcasm. Rebecca couldn't have cared less. She was simply glad that her friend was alive and mostly out of danger. There were times when his eyes would go completely blank, and he would grow skittish—she felt her heart ache for his experiences. And then she felt insurmountable amounts of guilt because she was dallying with his captor.

When the day finally arrived for her flight to Dallas, Rebecca was reintroduced to Jessica, who had an ipod attached firmly to her ears, music blaring so that she could hear it even from several feet away. Rebecca smirked as she recognized her teenage self in Jessica. It was a hard thing to have all this energy inside you and have to conform to the limits of Bill's standards. Sookie doted on her as a big sister, and though Rebecca could see some gratitude in the girl, there was nothing that could ease her angst driven life.

The flight was uneventful, and they landed without problems, though Rebecca spent most of the flight wondering what lay ahead of her. However, as they were leaving the plane, Sookie ran into a little problem. It seemed that there had been a trap laid for them upon arrival by person or persons unknown. Rebecca, knowing that she was a coward, hid as best she could and tried to keep from the violence that Bill was no doubt inflicting upon the man. She didn't want any part of it anymore, didn't want to deal with any more drama than she had to. There was enough happening in her head, alone, not to mention that she was walking straight into the upper crust of vampire society without so much as a safety net to catch her inevitable fall.

The hotel Camilla was lush and beautiful, furnished to the nines and—she noticed—a well stocked bar. When they finally made it to the hotel rooms, Rebecca began to wonder if she'd even see Eric on this trip. He seemed more MIA than usual, having not glimpsed him since he left her on the porch of Sookie's house. And now she was in this gorgeously decorated hotel room completely alone. Sighing, she flung herself on the plush bed and made an effort to sleep. When night rolled around, she stirred to find Eric lounging in the living room.

Rubbing groggily at her eyes, Rebecca shimmied out of the bed, "I was beginning to think I wouldn't see you on this trip."

Eric's gaze flicked from the coffee table in front of him to Rebecca standing in the doorway. "I have been occupied with my purpose here," he offered in way of explanation.

"What's that?" Rebecca replied, shuffling into the room and folding herself into an armchair. As he gathered his thoughts, she took the opportunity to look him over. He looked tired, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he had an air of frustration and annoyance hanging around him. She waited patiently for several more moments before getting up and sitting next to him on the couch.

"Eric, what happened?" She asked gently.

"The Sheriff of this area has gone missing. His people do not seem keen to get him back."

Rebecca's brow furrowed, "Why not?"

Eric shot her a strange kind of look that she couldn't read, "He has been taken by the Fellowship of the Sun."

Her eyebrows went to her hairline, "How in the world is that possible? I mean, if he's Sheriff, he's got to be strong. They couldn't just take him."

"Exactly my thoughts," Eric intoned, "But they did take him. Now we have to get him back."

Leaning heavily into the couch, Rebecca said, "How are we going to do that?"

There was a pause, then, "We're going to use Sookie to infiltrate their church and get him out."

"Are you kidding me?" Rebecca practically shouted, shocked. "That's suicide. If they find out that she's with Bill, they _will_ kill her."

Eric scoffed, "I know that. We're using Isabella's human as a decoy."

Rebecca stood, heading for the door with short, quick steps. Eric's question of where she was going was met with "to talk to Sookie." It shouldn't have surprised her that he beat her to the door, caging her against it with his arms on either side of her body, his body leaning aggressively into her space. She struggled briefly before sighing in aggravation, pressing back against the wooden barrier behind her.

"_Why_ are you stopping me?" She asked, huffing out a breath, scowling darkly at him.

"Because you will not change her mind. You should know by now how she is when she gets an idea into her mind," he replied in a placating tone. "It will do you no good and will end in a fight."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, "Why do you care whether or not Sookie and I are fighting?"

He smiled gently, "Because you will not win this one and you will become a petulant child when you lose." He grasped her shoulders, "And I can think of better things to do with our time than to debate the safety of such an endeavor."

Rebecca tried to shrug off his hands and failed, finally acquiescing. Eric guided her unwillingly back to the couch and pushed her gently into the cushions.

"Rebecca," he breathed against her cheek. "It's a good plan, and it will work. Sookie has faced much worse and survived without a scratch."

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca leaned away from him, "I've been inside one of those churches, Eric. They're certifiable. You know this, and yet you're sending her as a lamb to slaughter."

Eric's eyes narrowed and his face shifted ever so slightly so that, even in the light of the room, shadows crept over his expression. Try as she might, Rebecca could not read his meaning and it set her heart to pounding heavily in her chest. Uncomfortable, she lowered her gaze to her hands, which were twisting in the material of her shirt. There was no movement from him, no sound. It was in this moment that he seemed the most alien, the most unsettling, and potentially the most dangerous. The façade of humanity was stripped away to reveal the vampire within—sans fangs.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, but I cannot support this plan. She's a good friend, and I don't want her in danger." Rebecca softened her tone, kept her eyes low, and maintained a posture of submission, hoping to alleviate some of the tension in the room.

Eric blinked, "You were with the Fellowship?"

Pausing, stunned, Rebecca replied, "Er, yes. After we met at the club... I knew you wouldn't help me—and I had to find someone, somewhere, to do something. Much good it did me, anyways. They're nothing but a bunch of programmed automatons. Misguided. Misinformed. And dangerous."

Pale, masculine hands gripped her chin with the lightest touch, forcing her to look up into ice blue eyes. "You will not come into contact with the Fellowship again. Do you understand?"

Brows lowering, Rebecca felt that tiny bit of rebellion that always sat low in her spine rile and seethe. She said, "Let me go, Eric. I am a free person with an independent will, and you will not order me around."

He snarled, teeth extending outwards, "You are mine, Rebecca, and I will do with you as I will."

"Stop it, Eric! You sound just like Brandon." The words were issued softly, but the warning was clear. She would not have another Brandon possessing her, especially not someone a thousand times as strong. The gulf between them wedged its way to the forefront, and Rebecca wondered if they could ever stop fighting and just be friends—or at least friendly. Each of them was struggling with trying to control their relationship, and they were only ending out taking biting hits at each other rather than working together towards a common goal.

Leaning against the arm of the sofa, Rebecca regarded him with a deep sigh. "What the fuck are we doing? This," she gestured to the air between them, "Is… crazy, absolutely crazy. We can't go more than ten seconds without fighting one another." Dropping her head in her hands, she mumbled, "I can't keep doing this. It's going to destroy me."

After a long pause, Eric pulled her into his lap and held her very, very gently. He stroked soothing circles over her back, tucking her against his chest. Rebecca allowed it, folding her hands beneath her chin and recognizing her own vulnerability even as she hated herself for it. They stayed like that for long moments, completely relaxed for the first time since they'd met.

Rebecca, eyes closed, forehead against the skin of his neck, "When does all this go down?"

"Tomorrow morning," he replied succinctly.

She nodded, breathing in the scent of him and allowing the muscles of her neck, back, and legs to loosen in his embrace. He shifted to accommodate the movement, gathering her closer and sliding his hands further around her torso. There was nothing sexual about his touching her, just comfort and support as she peeled back the layers of her defenses and settled into him. Rebecca was scared, frightened out of her damn mind. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to—not her divorce, not her job, not her wonky relationship with her boss, and definitely not her hormones.

When she left Brandon to live her life free of his dominance and brutality, she had thought she would be running frantically from every vampire in the vicinity. Instead, she was being held very carefully by the epitome of what a vampire was, ancient and strong, vicious and demanding. And surprisingly gentle, compassionate, and protective. She could only marvel at the turn her life had taken, and wonder at what the future held.

A knock at the door, brought her away from her quiet reverie. Eric deposited her gingerly on the plush cushions of the couch and answered the door. Staff from the hotel rolled a cart in to the center of the room.

"Your order," he said mildly, nodding in deference when Eric slipped him a tip. "If you need anything, please do not hesitate to call down to the front desk."

Rebecca stood from her perch and sniffed the air. There was something delicious under those metallic covers. Her stomach rejoiced loudly at the potential for a large, sumptuous meal. She waited only as long as it took for the staff to exit the room before she scuttled over to the cart and lifted the trays to reveal a large steak, potatoes, and creamy macaroni and cheese. Bouncing with delight, she carried the plate to a nearby table and unrolled the silverware. Holding a knife in one hand and fork in the other, she gazed at the food hungrily, deciding her plan of attack.

Decision made, she carved a section of the steak away from the bone and slipped it into her mouth. Chewing, she made sounds of contentment and danced a jig in her seat as the flavors exploded on her tongue. The chef definitely knew what he was doing, she didn't even think she would need steak sauce as the meat was tender and juicy, seasoned perfectly. Spooning some of the potatoes into her mouth, Rebecca glanced across the room to the couch where Eric was watching her with an amused expression on his face.

"Thank you," she said between bites, "Honestly, I didn't expect to be fed at any point here." The hotel catered specifically to vampires, and she hadn't seen any humans who weren't firmly attached to their vampire hosts in the lobby. She stabbed some of the mac and cheese with her fork and popped the noodles in her mouth, sighing at the cheesy texture.

Eric continued to observe her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "This hotel serves both human and vampire clientele, Rebecca. They have food for both species." His tone implied that Rebecca should probably already know this simple fact. She rolled her eyes and kept eating. When her plate was clear, she slid it away and leaned back in the chair and took in more of the room around her. It was almost embarrassingly ornate with marble floors, solid wood furniture, and gold accents everywhere. For a moment, she wondered at how Eric could possibly afford something like this, but, then again, he had, had many years to store up enough wealth to make Solomon blush. He could probably spare the money for the finer things in life.

From her slouched position at the table, Rebecca returned her attention to Eric, "So, I'm not tired, what is there to do in Dallas?"

Eric leaned back into the couch, arms spreading over the back. "What do you want to do?"

She shrugged, "I'm sure the nightlife here is pretty active, but you'll understand if I've had enough of bar-hopping for a while."

He stood, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "I have an idea. There is a spa in the hotel. It specializes in all kinds of beauty and relaxation treatments. Given the stress of the previous week, I think you might need it."

Rebecca considered the idea for a moment, then nodded, "Okay. How do I go about getting into the spa, I'm sure it's already booked months in advance."

"It probably is," Eric replied, pulling her to standing, "But, I'm sure they'll be able to pencil you in." Wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her to the door, "Go down to the lobby, someone will be waiting for you there."

She thanked him as he guided her out into the hallway. Once the door closed behind her, she furrowed her brow, wondering if this was Eric's plan all along. Rebecca shook her head and decided that she didn't care. She'd had enough of fighting with him for the moment, and the opportunity for spa treatment was attractive enough that she was willing to put aside any suspicions.

Indeed, there was someone waiting for her when she reached the lobby. A curvaceous brunette stood guard at the opening, clipboard in hand.

"Rebecca?" She asked.

Rebecca nodded, "Yes, that's me."

Her anxious expression brightened and she smiled widely, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. "I'm Georgiana and I'm here to aid you in your spa experience here at the Camilla Hotel. Please, follow me."

Rebecca, unable to say anything in return, followed the impeccably dressed woman through a doorway off the side of the lobby and down a flight of stairs. As she descended, the smell of sandalwood reached her senses and the humidity in the air skyrocketed. Georgiana lead her through several doorways before selecting a specific room and ushering her inside.

"We have several treatments here, but I see your order has already been sent in. We'll get you ready for our seaweed wrap, massage, and bee venom facial."

Rebecca's eyebrows hit her hairline, "Bee venom? Are you sure that's necessary?"

Georgiana gave her an indulgent smile, "It's perfectly safe, and you'll feel wonderful afterwards I can guarantee you. Get undressed, and I'll send an attendant in to help you. We'll start with the massage, then the wrap and finish with the facial."

With quick steps, Georgiana exited the room, leaving Rebecca staring at the closed door. She shrugged and removed her shirt, jeans, bra, and underwear, then settled onto the massage table beneath the sheet. After a few moments the door opened and closed again and the lights were dimmed. Rebecca forced herself to relax and allow the masseuse to work on her tight and tense back. She also took to the time to mull over the plan for the next day.

There was no way that she was allowing Sookie to take on the Fellowship alone, especially now that she knew how fanatical they could be. Rebecca was going to find a way to go with them, no matter what kind of blackmail or coercion she had to use. Sookie could be walking into any kind of situation, and she wanted to be there in case the shit hit the fan. Her friend had been there for her even when everyone seemed to have abandoned her, and Rebecca would be damned if she wouldn't try to help in any way she could.

For thirty minutes, she made a list of every argument Sookie could lodge against her, then a list of counter arguments. And then she thought of Eric. He would be furious when he found out, and he would find out, about her plans. She sighed into the pillow. New plan. She would sneak in somehow, try to get into the building behind her friend unnoticed. It wasn't a perfect plan, but she could be pretty resourceful when she needed to be. There wouldn't be time to come up with every possible variation on the theme of her getting caught, and, if anything, she might be able to talk her way in or out.

Plan set, Rebecca allowed herself to be rolled in something icky, wrapped tighter than Chinese foot binding, and plastered with bee venom. After all, she needed to look her best if she was going to break into the Fellowship of the Sun and help Sookie jailbreak the missing Sheriff.

After peeling away three layers of seaweed-infused wrap from her skin, Rebecca sloughed off the residue in a tiny shower stall adjacent to the room. Then, she tiredly pulled her clothes back on, knowing that, as soon as she got back to the room, she would be asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Georgiana ushered her back through the maze of doorways to the elevator. "Let us know about your experience," she said warmly as she handed Rebecca a comments card. Rebecca, too tired to really respond, gave her a wan smile and shuffled into the waiting elevator. The subsequent ride to her floor was slow, and not even the jazz playing over the sound system could keep her eyes from drooping.

Keying into the room, Rebecca slipped out of her shoes and set an early alarm on her phone. She needed to be an early riser if she wanted to put her plan into action. Unsurprisingly, her room was empty. She was grateful—she didn't have the energy to deal with Eric and whatever it was that complicated their relationship. It was a conversation they would need to have once they got home, if they ever got around to it. Right now, she had bigger, more fanatical, fish to fry.


	12. Chapter 12

**There is an introduction of a new character in this chapter, and from here on out, we're dealing with an AU story. Let me know what you think!**

Rebecca woke when the cell phone in her hand, hidden beneath her pillow, vibrated against the skin of her palm. Quickly, she halted the vibration and checked her surroundings. The room was pitch black and the only sound was the whir of the air conditioning. There was also a dip in the bed beside her, alerting her to Eric's sleeping presence. Easing from the bed, she used the dim light from her cell phone to find her way to the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her and flicked on the light. There would be no time for a shower, but she relieved her bladder and ran through her morning ablutions just the same. Ponytail atop her head, Rebecca flicked the light back off and opened the door, once again using the light of her cell to see. It was, however, completely unnecessary, as the room was fully lit by the bedside lamp.

"Hey," she breathed, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Eric's hair was mussed from sleep, but his expression was alert, "Where are you going?"

She shrugged, "I was hungry. I'm going down for breakfast."

He looked at her for a few moments more, "Don't take too long."

A piece of Rebecca sighed dramatically in relief, but she managed to keep it inside. Nodding, she padded lightly to the door. "Go back to sleep, I'll be back soon."

Once outside in the hall, Rebecca sent a text to Sookie, who replied that she was already at breakfast. She redoubled her already frantic pace, fairly skipping down the hall to the waiting elevator. The lobby was unsurprisingly empty, save for her friend and an unknown man. She called out to them.

"Rebecca!" Sookie called back, her pretty face alight with anticipation. "Look, you aren't going to talk me out of it."

Rebecca smiled, "You know me well. But, I have no intention of talking you out of anything. This is your mission, and I'll let you do it."

Sookie sent her a suspicious glance, "You're not?"

"Nope," Rebecca replied, "Eric explained it to me already." She touched Sookie's arm, "Be careful. They're not exactly sane."

Sookie rolled her eyes, "I know, but we can handle it."

Doing her best to seem nonchalant, Rebecca leaned on the bar. "So, you renting a car or something?"

"We're taking Isabella's beamer. It's parked out front." Sookie looked anxiously at a gleaming watch on her arm. "We leave in about ten minutes. I'll be back tonight, after sunset."

Rebecca nodded and gave Sookie a hug. "I gotta head back. Eric's sleeping but I'm sure I can pass the time with TV."

Sookie gave her a look that said they would talk more about that situation later. Rebecca smiled and gave a little wave, turning the corner of the lobby. She then scuttled through a side door and out of the building, a dangerous, awful plan in mind.

Peeking around the side of the hotel, she spotted a white BMW parked just in front of the main entrance. There was no attendant, and she prayed the doors were unlocked. Rebecca tested the driver's side gingerly, a thousand prayers running through her mind. Luckily, it opened without setting off the alarm. Newer model cars had a pull tab in the trunk to release it from the inside, maybe not for this specific purpose, but it would do. She would tuck herself away until she could get out unnoticed.

Folding herself inside, Rebecca curled as tightly together as possible and firmly shut the door. She didn't have to wait very long in the stifling atmosphere of the trunk. Rebecca listened to the sound of Sookie's heels clicking against the concrete of the sidewalk, the doors of the car opened and closed again. She jerked against the side of the trunk as the car pulled from the curb, wincing. The sound of muffled conversation floated back to her through the back seat.

Fifteen minutes later, Rebecca was sweating through her tee shirt and the car was pulling to a stop. She spent another ten minutes inside the suffocating air of the trunk before reaching up and yanking on the pull to release the lock mechanism. She held the lid open a crack and peeked through the opening. The parking lot was empty, save for a few vacant cars, and she felt safe enough to slide out of car and into a crouch near the ground. She allowed the trunk to fall closed and crab walked back and around the side of the compact. Then, she peered towards the entrance of the church, spying nothing but well-managed landscape and gauche exterior decoration.

With careful movements, Rebecca crept across the lot and around the side of the building. The walls were smooth, no entryways. She slid along them towards the back of the building, her head craned to catch any approaching members of the congregation. There was a single door, locked tight enough that it wouldn't budge no matter how hard she tugged at the lock. Sighing, she leant her forehead on the door, wondering what her next move should be. As she thought, she rolled her neck from side to side, the cool metal a balm against her sweating forehead.

On the third pass, a small protrusion from the wall of the church caught her eye. She paused, eyeing the small basement window. It looked wide enough to fit her hips, though she may end out with a few scratches here and there. Rebecca leaned down and tugged at the seam, smiling as the window pulled free. She shoved the pane forward and leaned carefully inside; the room seemed to be storage and was completely vacant, save for a few boxes. Bracing against the sill, she slid forward, inching her body through the opening. As predicted, her hips caught against the wood, forcing her to push against the inner walls of the room to gain leverage. She shoved once, twice, and a third time, feeling the skin of her hips scrape against the sill.

Though Rebecca had accounted for the size of the opening, what she hadn't accounted for was the fall that would follow. The depth of the fall wasn't more than a few feet, but the angle put her face first into concrete. Her forearm caught on the wall, and she heard more than felt her head crack against the floor. Her vision went black, her ears ringing with the injury.

When Rebecca finally came to, it took her several minutes to gather the strength to raise her head from the cold floor, ever shifting floor. She glanced dizzily around the empty space, her eyes stuttering to a stop when she spied a man dressed in all white standing by the only exit. He gazed at her with interest, his hands folded carefully in front of his waist. Slowly, she sat up, one hand pushing from the cement, the other holding her aching head.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

Rebecca nodded, "Are you going to kill me?"

The man laughed mirthlessly, "No, but the Fellowship will if they find you."

This caused Rebecca pause. She gazed at him carefully, taking in the pale skin, the unnatural stillness. "You're the missing Sheriff."

He nodded, "I am Godric."

"Nice to meet you, Godric, I'm Rebecca. There are some people here to get you out of here. A woman and a man, have you seen them?"

Godric shook his head, "No, I have only seen you. Does Eric know you are here?"

Rebecca stiffened, "How did you… you know what, not going to ask. And no, he doesn't know I'm here." As if on cue, the cell in her pocket rattled. She slipped it out and touched the screen—five missed calls and several voicemails and texts. She glanced through the texts which ranged from anger to blackmail, to straight up demands for a phone call.

Godric knelt beside her, "You should not have come."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow, "I didn't do it for you, I did it to protect Sookie. Though, I'm not doing a very good job of that in here." She stood gingerly, Godric nearby with one hand outstretched to catch her if she fell. "So, why are you here exactly?"

Before he could answer, there was a sound of shuffling feet outside that quieted the room dramatically. The door opened swiftly and a body shoved its way through it before softly letting the door fall closed. Rebecca's eyebrows furrowed as she took in the tiny figure standing in front of them. Her hair was elbow length, teal blue with bubblegum pink peek-a-boo highlights. She was wearing a leather jacket and the tightest pair of jeans she had ever seen tucked into combat boots.

"Hi," she called, waving her fingers at them. "I'm looking for Godric."

Rebecca chuckled, "You aren't the only one. He's right here." She gestured in Godric's direction.

The tiny woman's face lit with an ethereal kind of light, "Hello Godric, I'm here to get you out of here. My name is Luca. If you would be so kind as to follow me—we'll be taking the back way."

Godric seemed to take a minute to really look at the woman, and Rebecca felt herself blush at the heat in his gaze though Luca didn't so much as blink. He folded his hands behind his back and addressed Luca with a formal tone, "Whom do you serve?"

Luca smiled, "I don't work for any of your people, I work for Unitel Corporation. Your child contacted us last night to find you, and here I am."

Godric returned her smile, "Eric has always ensured a backup plan."

Floored, Rebecca's mouth hung agape at the realization of just who Godric was. "Holy crap," she breathed.

Luca bounced anxiously near the door, "I know this is kind of a confusing moment, but we really have to get out of here. There is some kind of ceremony going on downstairs and I really don't want to know why."

Rebecca shrugged, "Okay, I hope you have a plan, because I've been flying by the seat of my pants for the last few weeks."

Peeking out into the hall, Luca motioned them forward, "Okay, we're clear here. If some of those people show up, I'm going to have to take them down. Godric, I know you're not…into violence, but I want to know you'll protect yourself. I can't help her," she pointed to Rebecca, "And you at the same time. I'm not cleared to make that kind of mess. Cool?"

Godric nodded and Rebecca tried valiantly not to feel affronted by Luca's astute observation into her helplessness. They inched through the door and into the hallway, then moved quickly to the intersection of two hallways. Luca knelt at the corner and pulled a small handgun from the waistband of her dark wash jeans. She edged the corner, then nodded to Rebecca that it was all clear. They moved right, taking silent, slow steps.

Rebecca eyed the doors, waiting nervously for one to be opened and for them to be discovered. She wished she had thought ahead to bring some sort of weapon for herself. There was no telling what could go down in the next few minutes and she was completely unprepared. Startlingly, a scream echoed down the hall from behind them. Rebecca gasped, recognizing the timbre of voice. She started, but was held back by Luca's hand on her arm.

"Let him handle it, we need to get you out. I'll come back for Godric later." Rebecca glanced back in the direction of the scream, noticing that Godric had completely disappeared. Luca pulled a reluctant Rebecca back down the hall. They took several blind turns and ascended a flight of stairs.

"Where are we goin?" Rebecca whispered as they stopped for recon once more.

Luca flicked a teal strand of hair from her eyes, "Not really sure. There's an exit somewhere around here. But, I've been rounding it because everyone is heading to the sanctuary."

"Oh," Rebecca replied, "How did you get in?"

Luca shot her a sideways glance, "Same way as everyone else. The front door. They don't keep it locked most of the time time."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, feeling stupid for resorting to the window when there was a clearly better entrance. Luca motioned her forward and they swung around to another hallway filled with doors. She sighed and wondered if they were really just moving in circles. Then, she glanced at Luca, trying to figure out who she worked for and why she had been sent for Godric.

She didn't get to wonder long because one of the many doors opened and a few men entered the hallway. Hissing, Luca shoved Rebecca through a set of large doors and closed them behind her. Rebecca rolled to a crouch only to stare at a pair of sneakered feet. She rose slowly, looking up at a very imposing man whose confused face suddenly contorted into rage. A growl of pain distracted her enough to shift her gaze from her opponent to the sanctuary below. Her stomach dropped at the sight of Eric chained to an altar at the front of the church, the chains burning into his pale skin.

"Eric!" She called down, flinging her body towards the railing. "What the fuck are you doing to him?" Eyes from the congregation swung upwards and Rebecca immediately regretted her decision to vocalize her anger. Thinking quickly, she rushed towards a nearby set of stairs, flying in her steps. Her forward momentum was stopped by a pair of arms reaching around her waist and hauling her up against a solid body. She struggled, kicking out with her legs. Her feet caught against a pew, knocking it to the side. She scratched at skin, using her nails to dig deep enough that she felt blood drip from wounds. Flinging her head backwards, she caught the face of her attacker with the back of her skull.

Feeling the arms around her loosen, she allowed her body to go limp and slide through the limbs to the floor. Crawling away, she flew down the stairs in front of her, stopping dead in her tracks as she stared down the barrel of a shotgun. Breathing hard, she held her hands up in surrender, glancing to the side as a man approached. His hair was slicked back in an outrageous puff of coiffure and his suit glared against the dim lights of the room. He preened like some kind of peacock, and Rebecca had the urge to throw a quick jab to his face, just to draw a little blood.

"You know this demon?" He gestured to Eric, who was glaring daggers at her.

Rebecca shrugged at Eric, giving her most repentant expression. Then, she turned her attention back to the peacock. "Know is kind of subjective. He's, like, a thousand years old, I only met him a few weeks ago. I would hardly call that knowing."

The peacock's expression darkened considerably, and Rebecca was tempted to take a few steps back. There was an inherent hatred that emanated from the very core of his soul. It seeped across his body and language and tainted even the hair upon his skin as it stood on end. He strutted forward and touched Rebecca's shoulder. She jerked away, sneering at him.

"You have turned from your Lord and savior, and you have embraced the demon vampire!" Rebecca's face contorted in confusion, and the peacock turned away from her to address the crowd. "I ask you, what fate shall be given unto this harlot? What shall we do with her?"

She was incredulous, and she was growing more pissed by the nanosecond, fury building at the thought of being judged by a group of xenophobic assholes wearing religion as a shield from their atrocities. Murmurs from the crowd grew in volume as she seethed quietly. Rebecca searched the rafter and the balcony, looking for Godric, for Luca, for Sookie, for fuck's sake anyone to help her save Eric and herself. A few of the followers approached her, and she backed away, glancing at Eric, whose eyes were wide with what looked very suspiciously like fear.

Struggling with the grasping hands, Rebecca issued an involuntary scream as she was bodily lifted and carried towards the altar. She was then laid out atop Eric's body and rope was swung over her. They held her arms and legs down as they tied her to him, their expressions hard with hatred. She glanced up at Eric, who had laid his head back against the stone, his eyes closed. From her vantage point, Rebecca could almost believe he was sleeping. But the strain in the muscles at her back belied his otherwise relaxed state.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. When he didn't reply, she turned her attention back to the room, startled to see that Sookie had entered, Luca at her side. Luca stood very straight, though her tiny body was easily dwarfed by the surrounding men in the room. However, the pistol in her hand was aimed squarely at the peacock, her narrowed eyes daring him to move a muscle. A shot rang out, but not from Luca's gun, though she looked pissed that someone had gotten to him first. It sent a green dollop of paint to the middle of the peacock's forehead. Jason Stackhouse's voice rang out, his southern twang deepened by emotion. She sighed in relief, looking up at the stained glass ceiling, the arches that held the room together. The rope and chains around her were loosened, and she was helped up by Sookie.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sookie hissed.

Rebecca shrugged, "Making things worse, apparently." She sighed and looked back to Eric, but his attention was focused on the peacock, which he held down by the throat. She rolled her eyes and stood by her friend, watching the action unfold from a safe distance. Just when she thought the tension in the room couldn't get any thicker, the doors of the sanctuary burst open and a horde of vampires entered the room, lead by a man dressed in black and wearing a Stetson. She couldn't help it, she laughed. The situation was growing ever more ridiculous as time went on. It seemed that every hero in both Bon Temps and Dallas had come out to stop this ceremony, and her presence was not only redundant, but utterly unnecessary. She should have stayed at home.

Rebecca looked at Sookie, who was being held tightly by Bill, and knew that it would not have happened any other way, even if she knew the cavalry would ride in at the last minute. Trying to save those she loved was part of who Rebecca was, and there was no changing that. She backed against the wall and sighed once more in relief. Vampires rushed by her, and she flinched, caged in by a particularly hungry looking female. She stared up into her eyes, noting the sheer joy of the kill in them. They reminded her of Brandon.

Long fingers wrapped around the vamp's throat, tilting the head back and to the side. Eric's voice intoned very lowly that, if they wanted to keep their fangs, they would back away slowly. Rebecca closed her eyes, dropping her head into her hands. This was getting more and more ridiculous by the second and she was getting tired of the roller coaster of emotions. She wanted off the ride, wanted to sit down and try to catch her breath.

Eric gripped her wrist, dragging her to his side, effortlessly moving her away from the danger, even as his attention once again shifted elsewhere. Godric stood atop the altar, his presence filling and quieting the room instantly. His voice rang out, stopping the violence of his people and stunning those whose blood might have been spilled into silence. He stood, a pillar of light shining behind him, and did the most human, most unthinkable thing. He dismissed the vampires and he forgave the humans.

They stood in a small group outside the church—Godric and Eric, Sookie and Bill, Jason and Luca, and Rebecca. Mostly she shuffled her feet and tried to ignore the baleful glares Eric occasionally leveled at her. But, the tiny Luca did interest her. She smiled easily and her colorful hair clashed wonderfully with her dark attire. She stood very tall, though her height was definitely small, and she looked both vampires in the eye without fear of glamour.

"There is still the matter of payment to my employer," Luca said to Eric, having to tilt her neck back to see his expression. "Given the circumstances, my employer offers to cut my fee in half."

Eric studied the tiny woman, his hands sliding into his pockets, "Agreed. But, payment will have to wait until later. I don't carry five thousand dollars with me everywhere I go."

Luca seemed to think it over, before nodding. "Unfortunately, I'll have to go with you to pick up the money. We don't trust easily, you see."

"Nor should you," Godric interjected. "I give you my word, you will be paid." He held out a hand to Luca, who took it firmly.

"Thank you," Luca replied, her smile widening marginally. "Can I ask… if you were able to get out all this time, why stay in there?" She gestured to the now empty church.

Godric's face was solemn when he replied, "I had thought to… show them that we could be peaceful. They are rather more pigheaded than I anticipated."

Luca laughed, her voice a chime in the darkness, and Rebecca couldn't help but allow the contagious sound to echo in her own voice. If felt good to release some of the tension of the night, knowing that the situation would be tragic if it had ended any other way.

After a few moments, Luca replied, "Yes, humans are incredibly stubborn. But, they are also creative, and spirited, and full of life. I'm of the opinion that it's the intensity of their lives that makes them so short."

Rebecca's expression drew inward as she considered Luca's words, wondering about her species. She wasn't vampire, and by implication, not human, though she looked perfectly normal. Luca's laugh sounded again, clear as crystal and twice as enchanting. Her pale blue eyes glittered in the moonlight, and her skin glistened in an unearthly way. No, Luca was definitely not human. However, Rebecca was willing to count her as an ally, no matter her species.

The group departed, though Eric stayed behind, his hand resting at the small of Rebecca's back to stay her escape. She turned to him, swallowing back her excuses and prevarications. Having done wrong, having directly put herself in danger, she had no right to defend herself. Hanging her head, Rebecca studied the ground. She sighed, shoving her fingers into the pockets of her jeans.

Slowly, as if to prevent startling her, Eric gripped her shoulders, one hand trailing up to tilt her chin back so that her eyes met his. Rebecca pursed her lips, trying to communicate her guilt ridden feeling through expression alone.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen very closely," Eric intoned firmly. "If you ever deliberately set foot in the way of danger again, I will personally chain you to a post in my basement. Understood?" The hands that held her were trembling slightly, and though his expression was that of anger, she remembered the expression of fear she'd seen in him as he lay on the altar in the sanctuary. He had feared for her life. Rebecca relented, nodding vigorously.

In response, Eric pulled her close, arranging herself against his body. "Good. Now, there is a party arranged in Godric's honor. We shouldn't be late." Without another word, he gathered his strength and they rose through the air. Rebecca buried her face in Eric's shirt, shivering as the wind rose around them. Though the night was clear, there were clouds on the horizon, and she could practically smell the storm coming.


	13. Chapter 13

**I am so sorry for the delay in posting-I caught a random virus for the Loki/Darcy crackship and I had to sail with that for a while. Anyways, here is the next chapter, and I should be posting more come early next week!**

The guests had already arrived by the time Rebecca and Eric entered the lavish penthouse suite. Godric sat in an alcove near the back, a female standing before him next to a kneeling, terrified and shaking male. She recognized him as the man who had escorted Sookie into the church, though she didn't understand why he was crying. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Eric leaned down and said very gently, "He has betrayed us to the Fellowship. It is because of him that Sookie was taken captive."

Rebecca felt her expression harden as she took in the scene with new eyes. He was right to be crying, and he was right to be begging for his life. His actions had nearly killed them all, had nearly killed Eric. She glanced up at him covertly, taking in the confidence of his gait, the utter surety of his posture. Gone was the sharp expression of fear and uncertainty she had seen as he was laid out on the altar. Gone was any sense that anything bad could have happened.

She was suddenly struck with the notion that they were very lucky that Godric had arrived when he did, and that he had put a stop to the happenings in the sanctuary. Their lives could have ended that night, yet the actions of a very powerful, very compassionate man had saved them all. She looked at Godric's sad face and knew that this was not the first time he had seen this exact situation. This was not the first time he had, had to intervene.

Eric escorted her to Godric's side, one arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Rebecca watched as the man on his knees fled for his life through a side door. She wondered at Godric's mercy, but knew better than to question it. With a brief touch and a glance, Eric left her with Godric to attend some problem in the outer room. She leaned against the wall next to Godric, watching as a procession of people came to pay their respects to the returned Sheriff.

Godric turned his attention to her solemnly, "He is changed."

Rebecca lifted a brow, "Who?"

"Eric," Godric replied with a small, secret smile, "You have changed him."

Rebecca chuckled, "Oh, he's still Eric. Give him a minute and he'll be right back to his old self again."

Godric's head swiveled gently back and forth, "He is my child, Rebecca. I can sense him in every way. Something has changed in him, and you are the cause."

She blinked, "I very much doubt that, but I appreciate your confidence in my abilities." She sighed and looked once more out into the crowd. "He is only offering me protection out of duty to his station. When all of this is over, he'll let me go."

Godric did not reply, thanking another in the long procession for their loyalty to him. Rebecca noticed Sookie from across the room and waved to her excitedly. She excused herself from Godric and slid between two very large vampires to hug her friend. Sookie's eyes were bright with amusement and her shining hair framed her face with curls. She was clean, and healthy, and alive. Rebecca was grateful for that. It didn't matter that Rebecca was covered with grime from the day and the dust of Eric's burned flesh.

In another moment, Luca approached them with a full smile, a glass of wine held delicately in her small fingers. "This is a great party!" She said, "I've never seen so many vampires in one room without a bloodbath."

"Wait for the finale," came a voice from the crowd. Rebecca turned to see a tall, willowy vampire with darkness in her eyes stride forward, her hips turned out and sultry. In her periphery, she saw Sookie straighten and stiffen. Words filled with meaning she didn't understand flew between the two women and Rebecca gave in to the instinct to take a step back. The tension in the room filled with anticipation, and she recalled very forcefully her last memory of standing in the center of a nest of vampires. Hunger and aggression lay at the base of their instincts, coating them with violence. Nothing could be predicted as a human, because no human could possibly understand what it was like to be a vampire.

Once again, Godric flew to the rescue, holding the aggressing vampire by the throat until he had wrenched from her an apology to Sookie and the promise of leaving without a fight. Rebecca glanced at the only person she knew who would be as lost as she was, Luca. Luca was taking in the situation, the ever present amusement in her eyes, wine glass pressed to her mouth as she tried not to laugh. It was comforting to know that, at the very least, someone else found this situation as ridiculous as she did. Everyone was either threatening or coercing everyone else. It was beginning to get old.

When the tension had once more died down, Luca once again approached the group.

"Anyone else think they need a drink a little stronger than wine?" She said with a chuckle. "All this drama reminds me of home."

Sookie looked curiously at the newcomer, "Where is home for you?"

Luca shrugged, "You wouldn't be able to find it on a map. I'm normally stationed on the West Coast. My boss, however, has allowed me to transfer here until further notice." She glanced around the room with a strong inhale. "I like this Southern air."

Rebecca gave Luca a strange look, but let the moment pass, dropping her eyes to a nearby glass vase that curled deceptively smooth in the light of the room. Her life continued to become more and more odd as time passed. She had no choice but to allow it to do so as avoiding the situation would do her no good. Touching the vase gently, Rebecca looked up and across the room at Eric, his attention elsewhere. From her vantage point she could observe him without censure.

On the outside, everything about him looked as it should, from the bloodlessness of his skin to the flex of muscle as he moved. Godric had said something had changed in him, but Rebecca could see nothing different. Nothing about him had softened, not even his gaze as he assessed the room. She shook her head and returned her attention to the conversation between Luca and Sookie. They spoke in pleasantries, but Luca's natural warmness made the conversation intimate.

A newcomer shuffled through the side doors, his face hard with determination. Rebecca lifted onto her tiptoes to peer over the vase at him. He was built large as a linebacker, classically handsome. Recognizing him from the sanctuary, she started to smile when the air in the room became bitter. He opened his coat to reveal a bomb strapped to his torso. Rebecca gasped in fear, her eyes turning automatically to Eric, who looked ready to charge.

The shards, when they hit her, slid between cracks in her skin that hadn't been there before. She couldn't breathe, but the pain hadn't quite hit her yet. Falling to the floor, Rebecca allowed her body to go lax, her limbs folding out from under her to lie at her sides. There were screams, but they were muffled, the teal of Luca's hair above her was blurred. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Rebecca blinked up at the ceiling, feeling effortlessly calm. She couldn't breathe. Eric's blonde hair slid into view and the crystal blue of his eyes held her captive. She couldn't breathe.

Flames burst from every part of her body as her nerves finally caught up with the situation. Her screams did not issue forth as she had no air with which to provide them flight. She couldn't breathe. Warm, viscous liquid poured down her throat, muddying her vision more. The pain grew ever more sharp as the fire in her nerve intensified.

She couldn't breathe.

Rebecca blinked away tears as she watched shard after shard of glass being pulled tenderly from her body by Luca, who was barking out orders to everyone around. When had Sookie arrived at her side? She was telling her to be calm, asking her to take in breath over and over. Rebecca did her best to comply, but Eric's wrist at her mouth was rather distracting.

She could breathe.

Great gulping breaths filled her lungs until she could take no more. Luca held her hand gently, "You're okay now." Then, to Eric, "You'd better get her out of here. We have a lot of injured people to take care of."

Eric gathered her up and carried her out of the penthouse, Sookie close behind and Bill following suit. They made several turns before the world blurred and Rebecca lost consciousness. The last thing she saw was a blood covered Sookie reaching out for her.

When she came to, Rebecca was laying on her bed in her hotel, Sookie sitting next to her fretting while Bill paced the floor outside the door. She glanced around, noting a peculiar absence.

"Where's Eric?"

Sookie flicked away a strand of blonde hair, "He went to speak with Godric. He'll be back soon." She glanced down Rebecca's body, "Are you okay? They pulled a lot of glass from you."

Rebecca mentally checked her limbs, "I think I'm okay. I'm just very tired."

Sookie's head fell to the bed, "This has got to be the worst night ever."

Chuckling, Rebecca replied, "Honestly, I'm glad it's over. I can't take any more close calls."

Eric burst into the room in a fury, turning over the couch and breaking nearly every piece of furniture in the living room. Rebecca leant over in bed, watching incredulously.

"Out!" Eric called from outside, "Everybody out."

Bill, seeing the danger of the situation, moved with vampiric speed, hauling Sookie from the room without a word. Rebecca could hear Sookie's indignant huff even as her body blurred from sight. That left her pretty much unable to move while Eric seethed not twenty feet away. She pushed herself to sitting against the headboard and waited. He was utterly, inhumanly still, leaning against the one remaining table in the room.

"What happened?" Rebecca edged softly, knowing he would hear her regardless.

Eric continued to remain still for a moment more, before pushing away from the table and approaching the bedroom. Rebecca noted the strain around his eyes, the flexing of his fingers against his thighs. She furrowed her brows, waiting for an explanation for the destruction of what could be tens of thousands of dollars worth of property.

"You know, I had to take from three people to replace the blood you took from me," he said lowly.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, "I'm sorry?" Then, "But I don't think that is why you are mad. What happened, Eric?"

Dropping to the edge of the bed, Eric rested his elbows on his knees. Rebecca followed the line of his spine with her eyes from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, tracing it back again as she waited. Sighing, she crawled tiredly out from under the covers and across the space between them. Sliding her legs off the side of the bed, she folded her hands in her lap, nudging him gently with her shoulder. He didn't move.

With some trepidation, Rebecca laid one hand on his back, the other on his forearm, the muscles so tense they felt like stone. "Eric… I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

His head dropped further, cupped by shaking hands. Rebecca was beginning to see that the situation was more than serious; she shushed him tenderly and ran her fingers through his golden hair. Through his closed fingertips, blood leaked in thin rivulets. It was the most emotion that she had ever seen in him. Rebecca wrapped her arms around him, though they had no hope of actually encompassing his body.

She rocked him gently, her heart hurting for each sob that pulsed between them. "It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here. I'll take care of you. It's okay."

When he had gained control of himself, Eric's back straightened and his head rose from its resting place. Rebecca dropped her embrace slightly, pulling back to look at him and reassess the situation. Eric's face was covered in blood, as were his hands. Other than the occasional blink, he was nearly unresponsive. His catatonic state was beginning to confuse her, more than that, it was scaring her.

Rising, Rebecca stepped away to the bathroom and wet a hand towel with warm water from the faucet. Eric hadn't moved when she returned, and continued his pattern of not moving as she wiped away his blood from his hands and face. When most of the red was gone, she returned to the bathroom for a fresh towel, wetting it once again with warm water. She then sat gingerly next to Eric and placed the towel at the nape of his next, pressing gently. He would talk when he was ready, but she would take care of him until that time.

It took a few more minutes of waiting, but Eric finally spoke. His voice was hoarse and his speech was halted, but he issued forth, "Godric intends to meet the sun."

Rebecca's eyebrows hit her hairline, "Really? I—I'm so sorry." She hugged him tightly, holding him to her body as her shock grew. His sire was dying at that very minute, and he was powerless to stop it-after everything Godric had done to help them. Involuntarily, she looked at the clock on the bedside table. The sun would be up by now.

"Has it… has it happened yet?" She croaked, laying her cheek against his shoulder blade.

Eric shook his head, "No, he lives still."

"But, the sun is up," Rebecca whispered.

With a jerk of his head, Eric turned to stare at the clock. He flew from the bed to the doorway and stopped cold, the towel at his neck falling to the floor with a wet splat. Rebecca stood warily, peering around Eric's body into the destroyed room. Godric stood just inside the door, surveying the damage with a shy smirk.

"I had hoped at least the couch would survive," Godric announced.

Rebecca smiled from out from under Eric's arm, which was braced on the jamb. "The bed survived if it's any consolation."

Godric smiled, "Of course it did."

Eric finally pulled away from the doorway and entered the room. "You said you were going to meet the sun. You forced me from the rooftop. You sent me to my room like a child so you could commit suicide, and then you show up at my door after sun up saying that you hoped the couch would survive. Have you lost your mind?"

Rebecca leaned against the doorjamb and waited, knowing that they needed to have this out now, rather than later. Godric held his hands out to the taller man, offering his support.

"I might be. But, I realized that I may have been acting rashly. There is still much to see here on this earthly plane."

Godric's fathomless eyes flicked to Rebecca, and then back to Eric, who had embraced his maker.

"I am sorry to have caused you pain," Godric conceded, "It was cruel of me. I must go to ground now. I am very tired."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Rebecca and Eric standing there in an empty room destroyed by grief and a wet towel at her feet. She huffed a breath and threw up her hands, "I give up. This night is officially the strangest night of my life. I should probably go to bed before it gets any weirder."

Eric followed her into the bedroom and they resumed their positions next to each other on the bed. For a few minutes, neither of them talked, and just when Rebecca started to fidget, Eric reached over and grasped her hand, pulling her to lean against him. He then wrapped his arm around her, holding her to his side. Rebecca allowed her head to fall to his chest, breathing in his scent and allowing the stress of the day to fall from her body.

"Crazy night, huh?" Rebecca breathed when the silence ran a little too long.

Eric's grip changed only very slightly, "Yes, it was. How are your injuries?" He pivoted on the mattress, urging her to face him. Gentle hands turned her palms up, lifting the hem of her shirt to check for remaining cuts from the glass. He brushed cool palms down her torso, roving to check her back and sides as well.

Rebecca remained as still as possible, unsure of Eric's mercurial moods and whether or not he was relieved or angry that she had hurt herself again, even if it was unintentional. His cool eyes were still rimmed with red, though they were dry. A lock of his icy-blonde hair fell forward, concealing part of his expression. She brushed it back, noting that he made no movement to stop her, though he had ample opportunity.

"I'm fine," she said softly, her voice drifting in the space between them. "Thanks to you."

Eric looked down at her, sighing as he bodily lifted her back towards the head of the bed. He pulled down the comforter and sheet, both speckled with drying remains of her blood. He then rose to close the door to the bedroom firmly, returning to slide beneath the sheets alongside her. The lights were snuffed, leaving them both cloaked in darkness that suddenly seemed too intimate.

Rebecca turned over to face him, despite the utter lack of light, "Are you okay?"

In response, Eric tucked her neatly beside him. "Go to sleep, Rebecca."

It was an order she was only too happy to obey. Her body, though no longer in danger, was exhausted from the ordeal, and as she lay in darkness, she felt her mind fall into blissful, quiet slumber.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello all! This chapter is more transitional than anything else, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Mwah!**

A knock at her bedroom door woke Rebecca from a deep sleep. She rolled to check the time, noting that it was early afternoon. Rebecca also noted that the bed was conspicuously empty and that all her luggage, save for an overnight bag, was also missing. She pushed to standing and trudged to the door, opening it against the light of the living room. Sookie stood at the threshold, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet.

"What happened?" She asked, gesturing to the damage behind her.

Rebecca shrugged, "Long story."

Taking a few steps inside, Sookie sat firmly on the ruffled bedspread. "I've got time and you need to get dressed. Our flight leaves in three hours."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, traversing the room to grab her overnight bag, "Let me take a shower."

While she scrubbed the grime from her skin, Rebecca thought about Eric. Even though the events of the past few days had altered their relationship completely, she wasn't sure if that alteration would make it past their trip home. He would be returning to his seat of power and she would once again become a waitress at a trendy bar. And then there was still the matter of Brandon and his threat on her life. What would happen after that?

Turning off the water, Rebecca dried her body and unzipped her bag. It held her cosmetics and a fresh change of clothes that she didn't recognize. Eric had, apparently, been a busy vampire. She pulled the dark wash denim shorts from the bag, followed by a black tank top and a set of matching black lace bra and underwear. Shaking her head at the clothes that clearly resembled Eric's particular taste, she slipped on the clothing, running the towel through her hair. Foregoing makeup, she exited the bathroom to find Sookie reclining on the bed with a trashy magazine.

"Can you believe this stuff?" She questioned idly. Then, she swung her legs off the bed. "Dish."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "To make a long story short, Godric was pretty intent on committing suicide. Eric was understandably upset."

Sookie gasped, "Oh my God, did he do it?"

"No, but it still left Eric shaken." Rebecca sat heavily in an armchair while she put on her shoes, "I've never seen him like that."

Smiling slightly, Sookie replied, "I doubt anyone has seen that and survived. Bill refused to let me out of the room."

Rebecca chuckled, "I bet. How are things with Bill?" They hadn't had a chance to really speak on the uncanny relationship between the mind reader and Bon Temps most famous vampire (if local gossip were to be believed.)

Sookie's smile fell very softly, "I wasn't too happy about his maker showing up, but he made it up to me."

"Really," Rebecca replied suggestively, "Was it _that_ good?"

Shooting her a look, Sookie sighed, "You know how different it can be."

This time it was Rebecca's face that fell. "Yeah, but only in the worst way."

Realizing her error, Sookie placed a comforting hand on Rebecca's arm, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Besides, I thought you and Eric had…" She trailed off meaningfully, her cheeks tinted pink.

Looking down, Rebecca smiled, "No, we haven't, if you must know."

"Wow," Sookie drawled, "that must be some kind of record."

Rebecca shrugged, "Oh, he's tried, don't make any mistake about that. But, I can't break my vows, even though Brandon thought it was perfectly fine to do so. Repeatedly."

Sookie pulled her into a light embrace, "Things will get better. The marriage law says you have to go through the divorce process, and even though the media will harangue you, Brandon was in the wrong and I'm sure that the courts will side with you."

Smirking, Rebecca nodded, "I have proof that Brandon was in the wrong, and I doubt that it will go to court once he sees the evidence I have against him. On top of that, I have a lawyer that doesn't fear the Vampire Council."

Patting her back, Sookie gave a tremendous smile, "See? That's the spirit!" Then, "We should probably head down to the lobby. They'll have a car waiting to take us to the airport."

An hour later, Rebecca was sitting on a flight back to Louisiana, her first class chair so comfortable that some of the anxiety of the day flowed out of her tense muscles. Airports were not her favorite places in the world, with so many security stops and eyes everywhere. But, they were heading home, cocktails in hand, and Sookie was making pleasant conversation with the wait-staff. Eric was safely ensconced in a coffin below deck, Bill lying right next to him. Everything was as it should be once again in a strange sort of way.

The sun was still hanging over the horizon when they landed, and another massive car was waiting to escort them home. Rebecca climbed in the back seat, turning to watch as they loaded not two, but three coffins into the bed of the car. She looked to Sookie, who shrugged, indicating that she didn't know about the extra passenger either.

The driver had them sign off on the coffins and strapped in for the trip back to Fangtasia. Rebecca spent most of the trip staring out the window, watching the sun dip ever lower over the horizon. When they pulled up to the familiar drive, it was a mere sliver in the sky, fading out to darkness as their luggage was unloaded. From the second they placed the coffins on the ground, three vampires sprung to life, stepping from their place of resting with more grace and dignity that Rebecca could have imagined.

Bill, Eric, and—surprisingly enough—Godric, stood before Rebecca and Sookie. Sookie greeted each in turn, embracing Bill with a smile. Godric, Rebecca noted, seemed to analyze the entrance of the club with some interest, his eyes narrowed at the gauche sign and exterior decoration. Rebecca smiled softly, wondering if he knew what Eric had been up to for the last few years. The maker/child relationship had never really been explained to her, but she knew that at any time, the maker could exert control over the child and that the bond was so deep that they could feel each other from miles away.

Up close, the deference Eric gave to Godric was astounding. She had never seen him bow to anyone, but his regard for Godric was obvious in the way he moved, the way his eyes swung to Godric every few minutes to check where his attention lay. They worked in unison to unload the baggage, and Eric spoke briefly with the driver before handing him a tip of folded bills. From there, Rebecca watched as Pam stepped confidently through the door, stopping short as she caught sight of Godric.

"Pam!" Godric called, a wide smile on his angelic face.

Pam, more than shocked at the sight of her maker's maker, surged forth and embraced Godric much to Rebecca's surprise. "It is wonderful to see you. I didn't know you were making a visit, or I would have had made better preparations." Her eyes flicked to Eric briefly for a narrowed glare.

Godric pulled back and looked at Eric over Pam's shoulder, "I'm sure all will be sorted out tonight. And this may be more than a visit as I have resigned my post in Dallas. I will need to know where to look for accommodations."

Eric straightened perceptibly, "We will make some calls this evening and find you something suitable."

Rebecca followed the group inside, noting that absolutely nothing had changed about the bar since she'd left a few short days ago. The patrons had not yet begun to arrive, and Ginger was flitting around the room, setting up tables and wiping down the bar. There was staleness to the routine that Rebecca noted, and she wondered if she would be expected to take on a shift tonight.

As Godric and Eric spoke about the business, the patrons, opportunities in the area, Pam sitting close by, Sookie and Bill made their excuses and left. Suddenly, Rebecca felt very much alone. Even more, she felt intrusive. Grabbing her bag, she headed to her room, nodding to Ginger along the way. The frail human woman gave her a small smile of recognition before going about her work.

Rebecca sighed as she set her bag on the bed, noting that the sheets had been changed from red to black but that they felt just as smooth. Flinging herself backwards, she stared at the ceiling and played with a loose strand of her hair. Strangely enough, she was glad that things looked boring for the next few days until the mediation. It was nice to not be either running for her life or arguing with Eric.

"Knock, knock," came a voice from the door.

Rebecca craned her neck to see Luca's tiny form standing in the doorway, her ever present smile lighting her face. "What are you doing here?"

Luca chuckled lightly, "Just picking up my payment. Figured I'd stick around for a while, though, see the sights, get to know the natives."

Rebecca's eyebrows lifted, "Cool. Um, were you looking for a tour guide or something?"

"Something like that. I've got a place rented out for a few months down the street, but I don't even know where to get groceries around here."

Rebecca stood from the bed, hands on her hips, "Okay, um, there is a store off the main highway. And you already know where the big bar in town is located. There's a mall and some boutiques, and a couple of mom and pop stores around." She stopped for a moment, gazing at the small woman. "I don't know how much help I'm going to be honestly. I don't know the area very well at all."

Luca flicked a teal strand from her eyes, "That's okay. Honestly, you look like you could use a friend right now. I kind of need one, too. I figured we could help each other out."

Rebecca gazed at the strange girl, who shifted nervously in the doorway. There was a vulnerability about her, a child like aura of being lost. And Rebecca supposed that Luca was lost in some way, a precocious young woman in a strange town, knowing only people she'd met in the worst kind of situation.

"I guess that's what we will do, then."

Luca jumped, both feet landing soundlessly, "Wonderful. You can show me all the shops in town and I can…help you with your wardrobe." While the statement wasn't said derisively, there was an edge of distaste as she glanced at Rebecca's worn sneakers.

"What's wrong with my wardrobe?" Rebecca asked, swinging her hands out away from her body.

Luca shrugged, "There's nothing wrong with it in particular, it's just, you know, sparse."

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca returned Luca's shrug, "I lost a lot of clothes in my move, and I haven't been able to replace them."

Luca's eyes softened knowingly, "Same here. We'll start at the vintage and second hand shops. You never know what kinds of treasures you'll find there."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them, but Luca shifted gracefully back out into the hall, "Come on, let's have a drink. On me."

Unable to resist the warmth of Luca's invitation, Rebecca followed the woman out into the hall and back to the main room of the bar. People and vampires had begun to trickle in and the music had begun to play. Luca, instead of heading to the bar, waltzed right up to a table in the back where Eric, Pam, and Godric were seated. She sat without a hint of hesitation and called Ginger over to take their order. Rebecca eased into the only open seat left between Luca and Pam, who gave her a snide, sideways look.

"So," Luca chirped, "What is there to do in this town?"

Eric leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table, "You're in the best establishment in the city."

Rebecca let out a huff of breath, smiling at Eric from beneath her lashes, "Confident, much?"

He shrugged, a smooth rotation of muscle, "I cannot help what is true."

At this, Rebecca rolled her eyes, distracted by the waitress who had brought her drink. The deep burgundy color confused her, and she glanced at Luca, who lifted her glass in salute. With a shake of her head, Rebecca returned the gesture and drank deep. The taste was thick and spicy, rather than fruity as the color implied. It sat heavily in the base of her stomach, spreading a nice relaxation to her body that was not unwelcome after her escapades in Dallas. They sat for several songs, Luca taking over the conversation with the utmost ease. Her jovial nature was contagious and Rebecca soon found herself laughing along with the woman as they ordered another round of drinks.

"Tell me, Godric, do you plan on settling down in Shreveport?" Luca asked, her drink held neatly in one hand.

Godric thought for a moment, "I do not know. I have lived in Dallas for many years, and I expect the change of scenery will be welcome."

Luca nodded once, "I can see that. I've lived on the west coast for most of my life, but the South has been very good to me so far." There was a twinkle in her pale eyes that gave Rebecca pause, but she dismissed it almost immediately. She knew Luca would share her secrets when she felt like it, and Rebecca knew better than to pry. Godric stared at Luca a moment too long, and the woman blushed pink.

They drank and laughed for several hours, until Rebecca had to lay her head on the table out of dizziness. Luca barked a laugh, "Looks like someone can't hold their liquor."

Rebecca gave the woman a crude gesture, trying to push from the table. She stood shakily, trembling from her own weight. Eric stood from across the table and sidled around, hauling her upwards.

"Time for bed, sleeping beauty," he murmured softly.

Rebecca reached a hand out and grabbed the last of her drink, waving it vaguely in Luca's direction. "Thanks f't drinks, Luca. Come 'morrow afternoon. Shopping!" Her words were slurred, but Rebecca was sure she got the message out loud and clear. She curled against Eric's chest as he carried her out of the bar and down the long hallway to her room. In the meantime, she sipped at the remainders of her drink until the straw gurgled with air. She then, held it out to Eric, who took it gently from her hands and promptly threw it behind his shoulder. Rebecca peered around him to watch it slam against the floor and shatter.

She chuckled lowly, "Who's g'na clean it up?"

"_You're_ not doing anything but going to bed. Your frazzled emotions are disturbing my work."

Rebecca scoffed, "You aren't working. You're partying." Each word was enunciated as best as she could, leaving the two short sentences drawn out.

Eric entered the room and laid her on the bed, sliding down to remove her shoes. "I am not partying. I'm managing my business."

"Whatevs, Eric. You can adm—mit yer havin' fun." She pressed a hand to the cool skin of Eric's neck, "Soooo, serious." As it turned out, alcohol made Rebecca more than a little slap happy, and some small part of her brain knew that—if she could remember it—she would be completely embarrassed by her behavior in the morning.

Saying nothing, Eric slipped her feet from her sock and pulled the covers from where they had pooled beneath her torso. He yanked them down to the bottom of the bed and went to work on her denim shorts. Rebecca squealed, batting his hands away.

"No taking advantage, mister!" She called, squirming away.

Eric let out a long-suffering sigh, pulling her back to his side of the bed, "Believe me, you're in no shape for what I'll do to you, and I don't relish being thrown up on while doing it. Hold still so I can get some clothes on you." He slid off her shorts and replaced them with a pair of soft-as-silk boxers.

Rebecca watched him work in silence, doing absolutely nothing to help—not that she really needed to do much. He lifted her with the ease of a rag doll. She almost called out again when he stood and headed to the bathroom. And she almost let out a whimper of 'aw' when he carried in a small trash can from beneath the sink. He placed the can by the bed and sat down beside her.

"You know," he said as he pulled the covers up to her shoulders, "This is the first time I've seen you laugh so much in one night."

Rebecca shrugged, "Prob'ly the drinking."

Eric shook his head, "No. For the first time you weren't pressed upon by your burdens with Brandon."

"Or th' fellowship, or my lawy'r, or _ov'bearing vampires_," She finished for him, allowing her voice to tease ever so slightly.

Eyes narrowing, Eric cradled her head and shoved a pillow behind it. "I'm only trying to protect you."

"I know," Rebecca said with a smile. "I 'ppreciate it."

Without another word, Eric tucked her in, kissed her forehead and turned out the light. Rebecca watched his retreating back with a smile in her eyes and her hands folded beneath her chin. She liked this caring side of Eric, and she hoped it would last.

**I'll admit, Eric's a little OOC, but we'll get back to the big bad vamp here shortly. Promise. ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**And here we go!**

Rebecca pulled up to a hole-in-the-wall shop ten miles out of the city and almost turned right around and pulled out of the parking lot. She and Luca had been driving for the better part of an hour down long stretches of unfamiliar road while Luca looked for a suitable shop. Cutting the engine only served to solidify Luca's choice of location, though Rebecca was reluctant to enter. The place looked positively shady and she thought that there was more chance of getting robbed in the place than finding some new clothes.

"This is perfect," Luca called as she stepped from the car, her smile tugging artfully at her cheeks. "We'll definitely find something here."

Rebecca raised a brow, "I don't know, doesn't look like much."

"Those are the best kind," Luca informed with a pointed look at the entrance.

With some effort, Luca was able to tug the doors open, and the two of them passed through a set of hanging beaded curtains. Rebecca winced at the musty smell of the place, and turned to plead for mercy with Luca only to find the woman already pulling garments from the racks. In less than five minutes, Rebecca was being shoved into a dressing room with an armful of clothes.

"I want to see all of them," Luca called. "No skimping."

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca shrugged out of her t-shirt and into a beaded miniskirt and button up. She glared at her reflection in the mirror then stepped from the room. Luca was modeling a bright blue beret, the color clashing awfully with her hair. She glanced at the ensemble.

"Keep the shirt, lost the skirt. Next!" And so it went for several more rotations until Rebecca had worked her way through the pile of clothes. Each time she exited the dressing room, Luca had selected another hat, accessory, or jacket, adding them to her own pile on the floor next to her purse. When, finally, Rebecca got to the last item, they had been in the shop for almost an hour, and Rebecca was wearing a dress that was a beautiful color, but had obviously been made when shoulder pads and lace had been in fashion.

Turning in the mirror, Rebecca eyed the fashion atrocity with ire and consternation, debating putting her foot down and refusing to exit. Then, after running through the argument in her head and deciding that she would probably lose she turned the knob and exited the dressing room, fully expecting Luca to take one look and dismiss the garment. Instead, the Luca gazed at the dress, her head resting thoughtfully on her frail fingers.

"I like it. We'll take it."

Rebecca sputtered, "Seriously? It's a disaster-an 80's prom disaster!"

Luca sighed, "I promise it won't be when we're done with it. Now, go put your clothes back on and we'll pay."

The bored teen at the register rang them up, offering them the barest of glances before sending them on their way. Luca hummed idly while they piled bags into the trunk, fully satisfied with their choices and confident that she could make Rebecca see it her way. She asked about this and that on the drive back-social customs and the ingredients in hot browns. There was no topic she considered off limits, and no amount of incredulous expressions from Rebecca could cool her inherent curiosity. Simply put, Luca was a massive ball of energy with few outlets other than conversation.

They returned to the bar after picking up a couple of burgers and fries. Luca sidled up to an empty table in an empty room, dividing their food between them.

"After we're done eating, I'll show you how we're going to deal with that horrid dress," he said between bites.

"So, you agree that it's awful."

Luca's brows drew together. "Oh, definitely. A monstrosity. But, my friend, I'm going to work my magic on it. You'll really knock 'em dead tonight."

"Tonight?" Rebecca questioned, "Why am I going to wear it tonight? I'll probably by working."

"Nope," Luca quipped as she popped a fry into her mouth, "I checked the schedule. You aren't even on it anymore."

Standing, Rebecca crossed the room and eased around the bar to check the hanging schedule. Luca was right; she wasn't on it, though the shifts were designated for the rest of the month. She shrugged, returning to her seat with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

"Probably an error. I'll check again later."

Luca smiled, but said nothing in return, busying herself with cleaning up their wrappers and burger boxes. They gathered their shopping bags from the floor, and Luca zeroed in on the dress from hell. She pulled the garment from the bag and laid it out flat on the table, eyeing in critically.

"Rebecca, could you get my sewing kit from my bag? I think I'll be needing it."

After forcing Rebecca back into the hideous dress, Luca took a solemn moment to analyze how the fabric hung from Rebecca's body and how it could be pinned. With a flick of her wrist, Rebecca was dismissed, and she removed the garment, slipping into her normal wardrobe with relish. When she had returned, Luca had laid out her sewing kit and was arranging a few spools of thread along the edges of the designated sewing table.

"Here," she said mildly, "Lay it out." Then, she gazed at the gauche piece a while longer, tapping the blade of the scissors to her chin. "I think we'll make it strapless, above the knee, and I'll have to remove the lace here and here." She pointed towards the bust. "Maybe I'll use the scraps to fringe the bottom hem."

Rebecca leaned against the table, "Shouldn't you be using a sewing machine for this?"

Luca shot her a baleful look, "I studied under the best seamstress at home. My stitches are far better than any machine."

Without another ounce of ceremony, her shears cut through the fabric with liquid grace, severing a large chunk from the neck. Then, she nipped the overlaying lace from the bodice, laying it aside. Next, she quickly pinned the remaining neckline, molding the fabric into a folded sweetheart. After threading a needle, she began to stitch the neckline down, making tiny, quick strokes with her wrist to pull the thread through the fabric.

Letting Luca work, Rebecca pushed away from the table and ducked under the bar to grab a few tumblers and a bottle of dark liquor. Returning, she set the tumblers near Luca's work space, pouring them both a healthy amount. Glass in hand, she shoved Luca's portion across the table, watching as she reached out blindly to grasp it and bring the glass to her full lips. She glanced up in gratitude as she took a sip, replacing the tumbler on the table. Rebecca observed Luca's work, wondering just how she was able to pull the fabric into a perfect shape with little to no effort and a single line of stitches. It almost seemed like magic as she sewed. The discarded lace was attached to the hem, and the sequins along with the arms were removed with a seam ripper. Bit by bit, pieces of the dress fell away to reveal a rather nice garment, with Luca's help, of course.

Luca held the dress up to Rebecca, shooing her back to the bathroom to change. As she slipped the dress over her head, Rebecca found that Luca had found some way to tighten the bodice so that it enhanced rather than sagged against her breasts. She turned in the mirror, shrugging as she reentered the common area of the bar.

"Looks good," Luca said, tugging a bit of scrap lace from the pile and folding it over her shoulder. With a threaded needle, she sewed a lace sleeve over her right shoulder, tucking the frayed edge into the back of the dress.  
>"There. Perfect," she said, circling Rebecca.<p>

Rebecca shifted on her feet, "And I'm supposed to wear this tonight."

Luca hummed her response, then, "Not sure how long it'll stay on, though."

"Luca!" Rebecca gasped, surprise alighting over her face.

"What?" Luca said, "I've seen the way he looks at you. It's obvious he wants to sleep with you."

Rebecca shook her head, "I'm a married woman, Luca, and I take my vows seriously. Besides, when the divorce is final and Eric's obligation is finished, he'll be done with me. I'd rather keep my heart intact." That was her story, and she was sticking to it.

Luca rolled her eyes, "Who was talking about hearts? I certainly wasn't. And you keep telling yourself that Eric is only doing this out of duty. I'll be there to say 'I told you so' when he quarantine's you for weeks on end after your hearing."

Now it was Rebecca's turn to roll her eyes. She shifted her weight to one foot and slid her hand to her hip, giving Luca a look that could kill. "This isn't a game, Luca. This is my life, and I'm not stupid enough to think that—even if I manage to get the divorce finalized—Brandon is just going to give up."

Luca smiled gently, "You're right, it is your life, and you need to start _living_ it. Eric probably isn't the best choice for a relationship, but he's perfect for a rebound. Just hit it and quit it, amiga. We'll worry about your poor heart later." There was a tinge of sarcasm in her tone, but Rebecca chose to ignore it with dignity.

Luca fussed over the dress for a few more minutes, cinching here and there and tucking ends in seams. Rebecca stood as still as possible, occasionally sipping from her glass, until she had to shoo Luca away, assuring her that there was nothing else to be done. They sat around one of the tables until the sun set and Pam came stalking into the room, sneer firmly in place.

"I see we're having girl bonding time," she said lowly.

Luca smiled brightly, tossing her dual colored hair over a finely boned shoulder, "Yes ma'am, would you like to join us?"

Pam's sneer deepened, if possible, "No, thank you. Some of us have a business to run. And since some of our _staff_ are now considered above regular shifts, we will be short handed tonight."

Rebecca's face lifted sharply, "I can work tonight, if you need me to."

"No, you can't. Eric has specifically taken you off the schedule indefinitely. Tell me, are all your jobs this short-lived?"

"Does your soulless core of existence always show this much?" Rebecca shot back, feeling not in the least bit gracious at the moment.

The light in Pam's eyes sparked briefly, but her attention was diverted by a staff person rushing through the door. From the twiggy limbs and ratted hair, Rebecca could tell it was Ginger, who never seemed to slow down enough to get anything done.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, the kids wouldn't get out of the car at their father's and I had to find a babysitter," she rushed out, finally stopping in front of Pam.

Pam let out a puff of air that could have been a sigh, "I don't care. Get to work."

And so the night began. Luca and Rebecca talked over drinks until Godric made an understated appearance from the back. Though the music didn't stop and people continued dancing, Rebecca could feel the air thicken with the knowledge that a very powerful entity now walked among them. Godric wore a black button up and grey slacks that looked tailored very well to his body and he moved like some giant cat. Luca coughed lightly into her drink, drawing Rebecca's attention back to the present.

"So," Luca said, rolling her glass between her fingers, "Do you, like, have a plan for after all this is done?"

Rebecca shrugged, "I figure I'll keep working for Sam until I come up with a plan. I've got enough funds for first and last month's rent on an apartment, so I think I'll be okay."

Luca glanced up and to the side, as Godric neared their table, "May I sit with you?"

"You don't have to be so formal with us, Godric. Once you've been through a near-death situation with someone, it kind of nullifies the need for pleasantries. And, yes, you can sit with us."

Godric sat with unearthly elegance, folding himself into a chair with smooth, even movements. "How are you ladies doing tonight?"

Luca chuckled, "We're working very hard at getting drunk." Rebecca smiled and gave a reluctant nod.

Godric smiled slowly, revealing a straight set of white teeth that looked sharp as any set of fangs. "I can see that. I'm supposed to give a message to you, Rebecca. Eric regrets that he cannot attend to you tonight, as a matter of business has come up."

Rebecca's brows drew together, "I'm sure he didn't say it like that, but I appreciate the effort to sugar coat."

Dropping his eyes slightly, Godric acknowledged the comment, but did not respond directly. Instead, he said, "Eric can be very rash, but his loyalty is as fierce as his temper. He shows his affection in… peculiar ways."

"I'm sure he does," Rebecca said softly. "Anyways, are you staying in Bon Temps long?"

Godric shrugged, "I suppose for a while. There are aspects of this town that have drawn my interest." Rebecca wasn't sure Luca caught the faintly telling glance he sent her way, as she was busy ordering another round of drinks. Godric settled further in his chair, "Besides, Eric has been too long without me. He is starting to slip into old habits—old, vengeful habits. He needs his maker just as much as I need to be reminded of what it is like to have a child."

Their drinks arrived, dark liquor for Luca and Rebecca, True Blood for Godric, and they talked about silly things for a while. Rebecca watched as Luca leaned conspiratorially toward Godric, sharing an amusing comment about one of the elaborately dressed dancers, and Rebecca took it as her cue to let the two of them have some time alone. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and slipped away from the table, sliding through the throng of people towards the bar. As she passed a group of tables, a chill of fear grabbed her by the spine and jerked her to a stop. Heart rapidly thudding against her chest, Rebecca turned and gasped a breath deep into her lungs.

Brandon lounged on a bar stool, staring hard at her with dark, fathomless eyes that were filled with sheer murder. Rebecca always knew this was going to happen, that he would come for her at the exact moment she lowered her guard the tiniest bit. She hadn't thought he would be so bold, but he must have found out in some way that Eric wouldn't be present that night. Rebecca swallowed back bile, and waited for his first move in the darkness. There was some surprise in the way he slowly rose and sauntered towards her that predatory way Rebecca began to recognize as distinctively vampiric in nature. Rebecca watched him in abject horror, knowing in her heart that there was nothing left of her husband, nothing left but a monster that thrived off her suffering. This realization bolstered her courage and quieted her inherent sympathy for her former lover. She didn't want him anymore, couldn't after everything between them.

Raising her head so that her back straightened and her chin jutted forward ever so slightly, Rebecca forced her lips to curl, "You are incredibly stupid, I hope you know that."

Brandon's movements froze preternaturally, before the muscles of his body relaxed. He smiled, "Now, is that any way to speak to your husband."

"Soon to be ex-husband, I'll thank you to remember," She sneered softly. "What do you want?"

"Just to deliver a message," he replied lightly.

"I seem to be getting a lot of those lately," Rebecca said more to herself than anything. "Well, out with it." She folded her hands across her chest and regarded him levelly.

Brandon cocked his head to the side, studying her. "Our divorce proceedings have drawn the attention of some very powerful people in the Vampire Council. Let's say they aren't very happy about the negative coverage."

"Tough shit," Rebecca shot out. "I'm done with you, and when my lawyer is done, you'll be lucky if they don't roast you at sunrise."

The growl issued from Brandon's throat was similar to Eric's in tenor and vibration, but Rebecca had never felt this repulsed by the sound before. While Eric usually growled in frustration or mild anger at her, she instinctively knew he wouldn't harm her physically. The growl in Brandon's voice, however, was clearly filled with psychotic rage and the intent to end her life prematurely. She nearly gagged outwardly in response to the feelings in her body. The threat of him was short-lived as Pam's tall, languid frame appeared beside her in an instant.

"Well, I see you've attracted another dipshit from the bowels of your earthen sewers again—or, is this the same one?" She said to Rebecca with a hint of amusement in her eyes. Then, to Brandon, "We don't tolerate threats to our patrons here. You'll have to keep your fangs retracted, if you please."

"I don't please," Brandon shot back, "And this is between my wife and I, you have nothing to do with it."

Pam chuckled, "You really _must_ be stupid if you think that's true. God, I don't know why I ever considered the male gender as bedmates—they can be so thick headed." She tossed her golden hair aside and regarded Brandon as one would a child, "Listen, Mr. Rebecca's husband—,"

"Ex-husband," Rebecca interjected darkly.

"Not yet I'm not," Brandon hissed.

Pam snarled, "I don't give a fuck who you are, you sniveling asshole. You will pay your tab, and you will leave. Right now. Or I will slice you open and strangle you with your own intestines before I remove your head—both of them."

Rebecca tried very hard not to laugh, but she couldn't help the giggles that issued forth and the threat of dismembering her ex. Some part of her wondered if that was a sign that she had lost her marbles. Muffling the sound behind a cough, she watched Brandon back away for a few steps before disappearing completely. Pam watched as well, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Is it just me, or is the human race breeding idiocy into their men?"

Rebecca shrugged, "No idea. But, thanks for stepping in."

Pam looked down at her from the height of her heels, "I didn't do it for you. If Eric had walked in and his human was in pieces, we'd have to deal with his mood swings for a century. And, believe me, your ex isn't worth the property damage."

Nodding, Rebecca stood awkwardly for a moment, "Well, thank you anyway. It's nice to see someone figuratively knock him on his ass. He needed it even when he was human."

"I'm sure," Pam drawled, clearly growing bored with the conversation. "Go back to Godric and Rainbow Bright over there. I don't have time to babysit you all night." And then she was stalking off, her heels clicking against the tiled floor with authoritative beats.

Rebecca, still shocked by Pam's outburst against Brandon, returned to her seat with Luca and Godric. The pair looked deep in conversation, though they had the good grace to half and acknowledge her as she sat.

"I ordered us another round," said Luca with a warm smile.

"Thanks. I think I'll need it," she replied, shivering.

Luca's fair brows drew together, "Why?"

Shrugging, Rebecca said, "Brandon just made an appearance. Pam scared him off."

"When? Just now?" Luca fairly exclaimed in her chiming tones. Then, "That son-of-a-bitch! I'll tell you one thing, he's got balls to walk right in here to harass you."

Godric smiled, "He only does it to get a reaction. We must ignore him for now, until after your people finalize the divorce."

Rebecca hunched over the table, closing the space between them, "No one tells him, okay? He might go ape shit on Brandon and ruin my case."

This drew a chuckle from the enigmatic Godric, who returned Rebecca's gesture and leaned across the table, his angelic face full of amusement. "Pam has already told him, I can guarantee. Even if he hadn't, I can smell his stench from here. Eric would know instantly, whether you told him or not." He gave her a kind smile, "You should know by now that there is no hiding the truth from my child."

Rebecca slumped in her chair, defeated, "I think I'm done for the night, guys. I'm exhausted."

Luca didn't fight her, but her face was painted prettily with shades of concern. Rebecca though off-handedly that Luca had the look of another world, but that her emotions were so remarkably, so humanly, written across her features. Her pale, glowing skin suited her dual-colored hair perfectly, and her minimal makeup made her look eternally youthful. She exuded confidence and sensuality, which belied her child-like looks and petite fram. All in all, the woman was a complete contradiction in visual aspects that defied any effort towards categorization or labels. And it definitely looked like Godric had taken notice of Luca's pretty face and sparkling personality. They leaned subconsciously towards each other at the table, their glances full of hidden meaning and intentions that Rebecca couldn't ever hope to decipher. Taking some solace in the fact that Luca would be taken care of, Rebecca once again excused herself from the table and headed towards her bedroom.

Once inside, she flopped backwards on the bed with a long-suffering sigh. Truthfully, she wasn't very tired, though the alcohol in her blood made her warm and tingly all over. Absently, she rose to sitting and observed the room around her for what seemed like the first time. In all the nights she had spent here, Rebecca had never examined the bedroom in detail, had never had the time or the inclination to really study it. Curiosity made her brave, and she pulled the drawer of the side table open with a gentle flexing of her fingertips, leaning over to observe the contents. There was a blank notepad and pen, a lighter, and a few odds and ends that didn't really tell her much. She closed the drawer and leaned towards the other side of the bed, rolling to her stomach to reach out to the opposite drawer. Rebecca blushed as she closed the drawer quickly, the space filled with lubricant and iron supplements.

With an ungraceful jerking of her body, Rebecca managed to roll off the bed to standing and maneuver her way to a chest of drawers across the room. Gingerly, she pulled open the top drawer, filled with socks and tanks tops, all black. The next drawer held track pants and designer sweats—again, all black. The final drawer held a scant few pairs of jeans that looked rarely worn. Rebecca crouched low as she closed the last drawer, glancing around for a closet. The only other door in the room led to a bathroom, which she also hadn't seen in detail. Padding across the room, Rebecca peeked around the edge of the door, noting the exceptionally large claw-foot tub and the marble inlay around the sink. The medicine cabinet was empty and the closet held nothing but a few fluffy white towels.

Rebecca scratched her head as she thought, running her hands through her hair on her way back to the bedroom. Someone obviously stayed here on a regular basis, and her best guess was that this was Eric's guest room. But, it looked sporadically used and was decidedly lacking in personal touches. Though the décor was expensive and the colors were matched perfectly, everything about the room left her feeling cold. Rolling her eyes at her own philosophically inclined thoughts, Rebecca climbed back into the bed and shoved off her shorts, tossing them over the side. She then slid beneath the covers and turned out the lights with a determined 'click'. As she lay in the dark, Rebecca wondered if this was how loneliness looked when the medium happened to be interior design.

Sometime in the night—or, more likely, in the morning—Rebecca felt Eric slide in beside her. Shuffling to face him, she propped herself up on her elbow and reached over to turn on the light.

"Don't be angry."

Eric's brows lifted marginally, "Why would I be angry?

Fiddling with the hem of the bed sheet, Rebecca replied, "Because Brandon was here."

"Ah," he said, "As I understand it, there was no blood drawn and he left rather quickly."

She nodded, "Pam scared him off." Rebecca studied him closely, noting the fatigued expression and the deep purple color beneath his eyes. She brushed his cheekbone with her fingertips.

"You look even more pale than usual. Have you eaten today?" Rebecca asked softly, concern evident.

Laying back so the he rested against the pillow, Eric replied, "Briefly, after I woke. I'm surprised at your concern. You've never shown any interest in my general health before."

Rebecca relaxed, laying back against her own pillow so that they lay side by side staring at the ceiling, neither glancing in each other's direction. "I was a little too worried about my own general health, Eric. For the better part of the last year I've been terrorized by the one person I trusted enough to leave everything I ever knew. I had to return to my childhood home bearing the shame of being unable to keep my marriage together."

He scoffed into the air. "Shame isn't what you should be feeling right now. You should be enraged," Eric said as if it were fact.

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca adjusted the sheets around her so that they pulled from between her legs and rested over both of them evenly. "What good would that do me? He's a vampire, Eric, and even though he's puny compared to you, he's fucking scary when weighed against me. I'll be lucky to live through the divorce proceedings."

Eric visibly flinched, "Do you doubt me that much? I have said over and over again that I will protect you."

"I know, and I'm grateful." Rebecca touched his forearm, "But I can't have you constantly looking after me for the rest of my life. There will come a time when Brandon will catch me off guard, much like he did in the bar tonight. I'm no fool, I know that just because I am divorcing him, it doesn't mean that this is over."

Grasping her hand, Eric locked his gaze on her thoughtful face, "I will find a way to end it, peacefully if you wish. But, I would rather rip his flesh from his bones. Slowly."

Rebecca laughed outright, "And I think, if it came down to that, I would be all for that plan. As awful as it sounds, I can't do it. I can't sign his death warrant and still feel good about it." She sighed, finally feeling the tell-tale fatigue creeping into her consciousness. "Let's just to this my way, and if it doesn't work, we'll consider your way."

Eric flicked off his light, and indicated for Rebecca to do the same. He then positioned her against him. "I suppose I can manage to hold off on torturing him to death for a little while. He overstepped his bounds today, and I'll exact punishment for that mistake in my own time."

Rebecca smiled into the darkness, "I'm sure you will. Now, go to sleep, no reason to plot revenge while in bed."

**So, the plot for this has turned slightly awry from my original intentions and I'm not certain if I like it, but I'll keep on, keepin' on. Just so everyone will know, the next chapter is filled with more gore than I care to describe and it will need some editing before I can post. Much love, my readers. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, so I know its been several months since my last post on this story. Unfortunately, another storyline has completely taken my attention and I have not been able to work on this story quite as intently. However, I have done a little more with this one and will probably post another chapter within the next two weeks. The chapters are shorter with this story, so the updates will be a little easier than with my Avengers story lines. **

Rebecca pressed invisible wrinkles from the seams of the Chanel suit that draped elegantly over the curves of her body. Her nerves were frazzled, unsure of how the next few hours were going to play out in what seemed like the climax of her divorce process. There was some comfort in Eric's presence across the seat from her. He had insisted that he come along for protective purposes, though she had an inkling that he was going to intimidate and threaten his own brand of retribution for her ex's trespassing. He had also insisted that she use his lawyer, instead of the lawyer she hired previous to Eric's offer of protection. It had been fairly difficult to get her files transferred to the new lawyer, and Rebecca had wondered how much money Eric had to use to clean up the mess and to make sure her entire set of paperwork made it to his preferred employee. Pam presented her that evening with the new suit after sunset, holding a pair of six inch heels in front of her with some disdain. Their relationship had returned to Pam ignoring her completely, and Rebecca dodging the potential for Pam's whip-smart sarcasm. This, fortunately, suited them both just fine since Rebecca had no wish to incur Pam's particular form of wrath and was even more hesitant to attain the level of friendship.

Staring down at the nude platform stilettos on her feet, Rebecca hoped that she could make it to the mediation and back without wiping out completely. The suit was probably worth more than her whole wardrobe and Rebecca hated to ruin the luxurious fabric with her clumsiness. The navy skirt was a little too short for her taste, but the jacket fit perfectly and complemented her skin tone beautifully. She felt confident—nervous, but confident, that she would make a good impression on the mediator.

As they pulled to a stop, Eric was out of the car and helping her to step onto the sidewalk before she could blink. He wore a two piece suit, the jacket and slacks tailored close to his broad frame, emphasizing the lean muscle and grace of his movements. The white fabric of his button up contrasted starkly against his pallor and the golden shine of his hair, though it took nothing away from his remarkable appearance. Rebecca allowed him to lead her forward into the courthouse, across floors of polished marble, to a boardroom where the mediator sat with Brandon and a man who resembled an attractive shark, if it was at all possible.

"Welcome," called the mediator, "I'm Cullen Wright and I'll be working with you during the divorce proceedings."

Rebecca smiled and took his hand, "I'm Rebecca."

They sat at the long table, and Rebecca took a small opportunity to look across the table at her soon-to-be ex husband. Brandon looked calm enough, his body relaxed in the seat across from her. He was dressed in a button up and jeans, his hair slicked away from his face in a way that had never been his style while he was human. Rebecca wondered how many other adjustments to his personality had happened while they had been estranged. It seemed to her that she was looking at an entirely new person, a person that made the blood in her veins run cold. The pallor of his skin was flushed indicating that he had fed recently, but Rebecca couldn't see any blood on him. Eric had mentioned that fledglings often were messy eaters, not having learned how to pierce the skin without wasting blood. It looked like Brandon was learning fast.

"Well, let's get started," Cullen said with false joviality. He presented both Rebecca and Brandon with a set of paperwork. "Here is the final division of the marital assets, the sale of the house, the bank accounts, and the taxes from last year."

Rebecca looked it over, noting that Brandon had sold the house at half price and had cleaned out her bank accounts. She glared up at him briefly, before leaning back into her chair, sliding the paperwork to her new lawyer.

Brandon's lawyer also glanced at it, saying, "I do believe this is correct, with one exception. Brandon's wife has a car, and the title is in Brandon's name. He would like the car back."

Rebecca's jaw clenched, "I bought that car, and it belongs to me."

"Yes, but you didn't have the credit. The loan, the lien, and the title are all in my name, sweetie," Brandon shot back with an astoundingly frustrating smirk. He smiled, smug in his expression, "In the eyes of the law, that car is mine."

Feeling some latent rage boil up, Rebecca prepared to fire back when Eric's hand landed on her thigh, squeezing just enough to get her attention and stop the rant at the back of her throat. She swallowed back the venom and bit out, "You can come pick it up tonight, at the bar. I'll get a better one with the settlement."

"Ah, ah, ah," said Brandon's lawyer, "We still have emotional damages to consider. My client will be entitled to about ten thousand dollars for that." He glanced at the settlement, "That seems to be about your half, after legal fees."

"Emotional damages," Rebecca intoned dryly. "Really?"

After what seemed like eternity, her lawyer, a man who wore wire rimmed glasses and sniffled into a handkerchief, said, "I do believe we will be countersuing for spousal abuse, neglect, harassment, and attempted murder—should this not end in this room, at this very minute." Rebecca glanced down to table at him, surprised all the way down to her borrowed shoes that he had stepped up his game. He seemed meek, mild, and honestly like a wimp when contrasted with the heavy hitters surrounding her. But, the strong assertion of their plans, the deadly way in which he said them, and the firm gaze he held with Brandon was changing her mind at a breakneck pace.

"Your proof?"

Her lawyer smiled mischievously, "About two hours of video and a hundred and thirty six pictures taken during and after the last few weeks of the relationship. I can guarantee you that there will be no doubt that my client will win, and I can't imagine this will go over with the Vampire Council's plans to assimilate into human society."

That was it, she definitely liked her lawyer, but there was a tiny part of Rebecca that wondered if it was a good idea to show their hand so quickly. Brandon, while not exactly cunning, could turn things in his favor at the drop of a hat—she had seen that first hand. She glanced up at Eric, who seemed almost bored by the situation, his eyes on his phone as he typed out a message with his free hand. Her lawyer waited patiently for a decision to be made as Brandon whispered in secret counsel.

"I'll still want the car," he conceded bitterly.

Rebecca nodded her assent, "Come pick it up afterwards. I have a few things I need to clean out first."

And that was it. A few signatures, a notarization, and refusal of handshakes later, Rebecca was back in the car with Eric sitting beside her and the lawyer prattling away on his cell. She blinked at the scenery flying by through the window, her brows furrowed in concentration and confusion.

"If your face contorts any more, it will stay that way," Eric said lightly, slipping his phone into a hidden pocket inside his jacket.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "That was too easy."

He laughed, angling his hips in the seat to face her, "What did you expect? Bloodshed on the mahogany?"

Shrugging, Rebecca replied, "I don't know. Something a little more dramatic than that."

Tugging her across the seat to fold into the curvature of his side, Eric ran a hand through some of the loose tendrils of her hair, "With as much excitement as we have had lately, I would think you would be satisfied with a relatively amicable mediation."

"I am satisfied," Rebecca shot back with a frown. "I just… feel like the other foot is going to drop here shortly."

Eric sighed airlessly, "I don't understand you. You say you want one thing, and then when you get it, you want something completely different."

"Remind you of someone you know?" She replied lightly.

He tensed, "Very funny."

His dry tone made her laugh, and she patted his arm in mock comfort, a taunting smile on her lips. The vehicle pulled to a stop, and once again Eric was out of the car and helping her to step onto the curb in the blink of an eye. His lawyer shook her hand gently, offering to take on another of her cases in the future, should there be a need. She thanked him warmly and watched as he shuffled meekly back into the waiting car and called out an address. Then, she reached into her purse and pulled her keys regretfully from her purse.

"Guess I should get my stuff out of the car," she murmured. Slipping of the expensive heels, she padded over to her faithful vehicle. Though several decades old and rusting in some spots, the sedan had been a huge consistency in a life filled with inconsistent assholes and a hell of a lot of fear. She patted the trunk lovingly before opening it, pulling her belongings from the space and setting them to the side. Then, she went through the glove box and the seats, checking for anything that was hers. Cognitively, she knew that this was technically Brandon's car, that his name was on the title and that she had no claim to it. But, the thing was _so_ _hers,_ it even freaking smelled of her favorite perfume when the doors opened for the first time. It simply wasn't fair that she had to give it up on the day she severed her life from Brandon's permanently.

True to form, Brandon showed up right when she couldn't have wanted to see him any less, smug smile etched in a seemingly permanent pattern across lips that she had once loved to kiss. Sneering, she pulled the keys from her key ring and tossed them to him with a flick of her wrist.

"Thanks, Becky," he called out.

"It's Rebecca," Eric corrected, his hands sliding into the pockets of his slacks with practiced ease.

Brandon hissed lowly, "I'll call her what I want."

Before Rebecca could intervene, Eric laughed in a way that sent her backpedaling towards the front door. She pressed back against the brick of the building, watching as the pair moved through the shadows, sizing one another up. There was no doubt in her mind that Eric could take Brandon down, should he so choose, but she wondered if Brandon would be so insurmountably stupid as to think he could win. The prospect of a fight definitely not something that she wanted, despite her utter disdain for her ex. There had been far too much fighting, and far too much violence in her life and all she wanted to do was move on from this blood filled horror.

"Leave, while I still allow it," Eric intoned with deadly seriousness.

Brandon laughed, "What is this? The High Court?"

"Your maker should have taught you manners," Eric rebuked with banked intensity. "There are rules that come with that power flowing in your veins, and you have broken far too many unchecked."

"Rules are meant to be broken and I don't care how ancient you are, _Becky_ will always belong to me in one way or another."

Faster than Rebecca could see, Eric was on him, his fingers digging into the flesh with so much force that it spread apart like a hot knife through butter. He held Brandon aloft by his neck while one hand reached inside, pulling at Brandon's innards until they spilled between them with a sickening splat on the ground. The smell hit Rebecca first, followed by Brandon's agonizing screams, and she vomited her dinner from her place near the door.

Still alive and kicking uselessly out against the stronger opponent, Brandon snarled and hissed in a strictly vampiric way, his eyes blazing with astonishment. Eric chuckled, clearly enjoying his kill immensely. Pressing the advantage, he reached further into Brandon's body, pushing way back until half his arm was imbedded. With a swift jerk and a dull roar, he adjusted his grip and yanked Brandon's spine through his abdomen, the bones snapping at the brain stem. It was then that Rebecca had to look away or risk heaving more half digested food onto the ground.

The door at her side swung open and a familiar set of heeled feet stepped out to observe the commotion. Pam glanced with disgust at her before turning to her maker, "Honestly, Eric, you could have tortured him first." Her sardonic tone and teasing words left Rebecca dumbstruck in wonder as she tried to make her brain connect the Eric she knew as her protector with the Eric standing with her ex husband's spine in his bloody hand.

"I probably should have," Eric replied as he tossed the bone into a pile of molten and congealed blood. "Still haven't gotten the hang of extending the pain."

Pam rolled her eyes, "If you haven't mastered it by now, you never will. I'll have Ginger clean this up." Her gaze darted over Rebecca, who was still half bent in preparation for another round of vomiting. "Your human could use some medical help, I think."

Rebecca pulled herself upright, bracing her body against the wall in the return of the nausea, "I'm going to my room to lie down."

Once in relative safety, she pulled the finery from her limbs and slipped into the faded jeans and t-shirt that had become her staple outfit over the last few months. She sat carefully on the edge of the bed and dropped her head into her hands, considering the strange turn of events. Her mind kept replaying the squish of Brandon's guts as they fell from his body and the audible crack of his spine as Eric severed it. Had she dropped from one den of evil into another? Had she traded one set of fears for another set that was infinitely more dangerous because they were cloaked in the comfort and safety she felt when Eric stood nearby?

Rebecca guessed that this was probably a normal reaction to watching a murder—she wouldn't sugarcoat it, murder was what had just happened. On one hand, she was very happy that the threat of Brandon's retribution was now a moot point. On the other hand, Eric _had_ just mutilated someone she once loved. Rebecca was very, very confused and there was no clear path through that confusion to a purposeful conclusion.

The door squeaked open and Eric stepped inside, covered in Brandon's blood and a few pieces of organs she couldn't readily identify. He nodded to her as he passed on his way to the bathroom, grabbing a few spare clothes along the way. Rebecca barely acknowledged him, couldn't bring herself to react even as the shower turned on in the next room and steam billowed out from the open door. She sat very still while he showered, her eyes unfocused in memory while she worked out how she felt about Eric and where she would go from there. As anticlimactic as the mediation and as horrifyingly climactic as the death scene in front of the bar was, Rebecca's world continued to spin relatively on its regular axis.

From the bathroom, Rebecca heard the water cut off and rustling from behind her though she made no outward movements. Eric appeared in her periphery, dressed in a tank top and sweats, his feet bare and dewy from the water. Keeping her eyes on the floor, Rebecca blinked several times, waiting for him to say something to break the shock.

He didn't disappoint. "You could at least thank me for ridding you of him."

Snapping to attention, Rebecca turned to him owl-eyed, "Thank you, Eric, for ripping his spine out through his abdomen. That's exactly what I wanted you to do."

Though her voice dripped venom, it trembled with emotions that seemed to be a mix of fear and latent, impotent melancholy. Eric's fine brows rose in surprise, one hand running through his damp hair while Rebecca tried to keep her composure.

"I was well within my right as the elder vampire to punish him as I saw fit."

"Did you have to kill him?" She whispered harshly in response.

Eric growled deeply, the sound bouncing along the walls to pool across her skin, raising goose bumps over her arms and neck. "Yes, and I would do it again. Slowly, this time."

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca flung her body back against the mattress to stare at the ceiling, "You can't just kill people because they make you angry."

"I can if they break the law," he replied in a matter of fact tone.

"And if I make you angry, if I break some arbitrary law, will you kill me, too?"

The silence that ensued was thick with tension and for the slightest moment, Rebecca thought he might reply in the affirmative, dashing every hope she had for continuing their relationship on some kind of normal level. Instead, he leaned over her, bracing himself on one arm while his free hand touched the sensitive skin below her chin.

"Where do you get these ideas?" He said with half a smirk, "I'm not going to kill you."

Rebecca lifted a brow, "You killed Brandon without a single thought. You just… acted."

Sighing deeply, Eric reached down and gripped her waist, using supernatural strength to shove her up the length of the bed so that he could climb in next to her. Rebecca kept as much distance as he would allow, which was, admittedly, not much. He was far too close for her to keep a clear head about their conversation and she knew instinctively that he was using her attraction and emotive reactions to him to keep the advantage in his court.

"You seem to forget that you belong to me now, that you are as much my responsibility as this territory. You think I'm just going to kill you when the mood strikes?"

Rebecca shrugged, "I honestly don't know."

"Rebecca," he intoned, drawing the syllables out along his tongue in something akin to a physical caress. "You silly little girl."

"Hey," she crowed, swatting at his arm, "I'm not a little girl."

For the first time, Eric's face opened completely into amusement and Rebecca was momentarily stunned at the beauty of his expression. She had to mentally slap herself to bring her attention back to the conversation at hand and not the memory of his mouth on her skin. Tamping down her feelings, Rebecca centered her focus and stared him down, desperately trying not to mirror his amusement with a smile of her own.

"Pam informs me that you should have liquids," he said lightly.

She smirked, "Did she Google that?"

He didn't laugh, but smiled briefly. "What do you want?" He replied smoothly, rising from the bed. "I will bring it to you."

Rebecca's gaze narrowed, "You're being very accommodating."

He shrugged, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sweats, "I just killed your ex lover. I can at least bring you a beverage of your choice."

"Water is fine," she replied, her brows furrowing. "Thank you."

He was out of the room before she could blink, and standing before her again before her next breath had left her lungs. Impressed, she took the glass and swallowed back a large gulp that cooled her parched throat. Eric watched her carefully until the whole of the glass had been emptied, then he took it from her and set it aside.

"Better?"

Rebecca nodded, "A little." And that was the truth. She was still unnerved by his actions, and questioning her sanity a little at her own reaction—that is, her lack of reaction. Lying back, Rebecca closed her eyes in thought, feeling for the first time in quite a long time like she had no purpose. Her whole reason for coming back to this dusty, dirty place was to get rid of Brandon, a feat Eric had accomplished in a few bloody seconds. What was she going to do now?

She could go back to working for Sam, maybe get back into school and try to start a career, but she had never been very good at holding down a job, her interests changing mercurially. It wouldn't be long before her urge to move and discover new things took over and she would be flitting off to God knows where, following some whim or fantasy. Sighing, Rebecca opened her eyes to see Eric staring down at her, his height forcing him to crane his neck downwards. Almost as an afterthought, she smiled up at him, a small movement that seemed to be the only thing she could do, considering the circumstances.

"Well, I suppose I can keep the car, then."


	17. Chapter 17

**For about three days, I contemplated how I wanted this part of the story to go. I needed to transition from one side of the story to the next without making it seem... forced. I hope I have managed to accomplish that task. Rebecca will be going through a furious metamorphosis over the next few chapters as she leaves her old life behind. I hope Eric can handle it. XD**

Rebecca spent about five minutes packing her things the following evening before Luca breezed through the door, her effervescent smile faltering as she took in the folded clothes and open duffel laying conspicuously on the bed.

"You can't possibly be leaving," she nearly exclaimed, stepping to the bed and touching each stack of meager clothing in turn.

Rebecca shook away the unnecessary feelings of guilt, turning her attention from Luca's entreating expression. "It's over now," she said quietly. "Eric took care of Brandon and there's no reason for me to be protected. I can't live here forever."

Luca made an indignant noise in the back of her throat, "You're being childish."

"How?" Rebecca shot back, suddenly angry and festering. The feelings were familiar now, and rose without conscious effort. "I think I'm making a very adult decision."

Luca let Rebecca's anger roll off her shoulder, her smile quite indulgent. "Children run away from their problems. Adults face them."

There was such simplicity in her statement that Rebecca had to double check her reasoning just to stay on course, which only served to ramp up her already frazzled nerves.

"I don't understand," she asserted carefully, rubbing furiously at her cheeks in an effort to center her tilting world. "My problem is over. I can start again now that he's dead. _How_ is there still an issue?"

"You like him. A lot. And if one of you would quit being so damned bullheaded, you would see how happy you could be." Luca's face contorted in an effort to be sympathetic, resulting in a mildly tearful expression.

Doe-eyed, Rebecca had to try three or four times to wrap her mind around Luca's assertions and the reluctant understanding that the woman was, in fact, reading correctly into Rebecca's urge to run. Though she might try to deny it, she was sure Luca referred to Eric—she had to face it, she really did like the vampire. He was strong and could protect her, he was attentive when it mattered, and it didn't hurt that she was incredibly attracted to him—though in the back of her mind Rebecca thought the ingestion of his blood might have something to do with her recurring lust.

Wryly, she muttered, "I thought we weren't talking about hearts where Eric is concerned."

Luca had the good grace to roll her eyes, "That was before he ripped your ex-husband apart in the parking lot. Any sane person wouldn't do that for nothing."

Rebecca had doubts that Eric could be considered sane, but she indulged Luca a little, saying, "And what am I supposed to do? There isn't exactly a book out there on these kinds of relationships—'How to woo your undead protector.'"

Scoffing, Luca wrapped an arm around Rebecca's shoulders in a friendly gesture. "You don't need a book when you've got me looking out for you."

Somehow, Luca's assurances made Rebecca a little wary as there was a distinct glimmer of mischief in her eyes. The woman had such a child like perception of the world, and it seemed that she was bound and determined to make things go her way, no matter what the opinions of the people around her might be. For such a small woman, Luca was something of a power house. It made Rebecca wonder where she had come from, what she had been doing before she stepped out into Eric's deal to find Godric. Who were her people? What was her family like? Did she go to school? College?

Slumping onto the bed, Rebecca regarded the smaller woman with an expression akin to baleful humor. She wanted to strangle her because she couldn't quite say no to her pleading face and simple logic and yet she wanted to laugh with her about the ridiculousness of the situation. There was no clear way to handle the warring emotions that sat like tiny whispering sprites on either shoulder. The relenting feeling sunk heavily in her gut and, try as she might, Rebecca would not be able to deny Luca.

In one last desperate strike at independence, she said, "Where am I supposed to live?"

"With me, of course," Luca replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "I thought you might need a place after all of this went down so I opted for the two-bedroom. Rent is due on the first of the month, but I've already paid this month so you're okay until next month."

Rebecca's expression was incredulous and almost offended at the simple, naïve nature of Luca's assertions and decrees, "You don't even know me, why are you offering me a place to stay?"

Luca's brows furrowed, "Because we're friends, and that's what friends do."

The earnestness with which she spoke was countered by the pouting lower lip and continual nudging to her way of thinking. Rebecca almost refused on the suspicion of foul play alone, experience warring with the need for a place to live outside of Eric's influence. She had to get out, if only for a while, so that she could think logically and with a clear head about whether or not she wanted her association with him to continue past their agreed protection against her now dead ex husband. Having lived for so long in fear of vampirism and in fear of her husband, she was in no hurry to jump once more into a relationship, especially with another vampire.

"Oh," was all Rebecca could say in reply as Luca zipped up her duffel firmly, holding the bag out to her in expectation. She took it numbly, following the bouncing woman out into the empty hallways towards the main floor. The sun was definitely still out if the high beam of light shining through the outline of the door could be believed, and that left her with several options, none of which seemed particularly enticing. She could go with Luca, unpack, and return to beg for a job—or she could with Luca, unpack, and beg Sam for her old job back. Waitressing was easy, the tips were usually good, and Rebecca had the option of taking home food from the kitchen when funds for groceries were low.

Some part of her wondered if it might be best to look elsewhere for work, given her unluckiness in the bar atmosphere. Both cities were filled with memories that she would rather not have and both bars had people who would ask questions she didn't want to answer. Sookie had been uncharacteristically silent these last few days and Rebecca knew a full update would be needed as soon as she stepped back into Bon Temps. She sighed as they climbed into her—or, technically, Brandon's-car. Luca's new apartment was ten blocks away in a mid-range apartment complex off the side of the main highway. The inside was sparse, but clean, and Rebecca's room already had a bed in it, for which she was eternally grateful. Luca left her alone for a while to regain her bearings, shuffling around in the kitchen.

Unpacking was a short affair as Rebecca owned very little at the moment, something that would need to be changed as soon as she got some steady work. It took only a few moments to survey her surroundings and decide that this was more than she could hope for, more than perhaps she deserved without contributing to the rent. Stepping out into the hall, she peered into the kitchen to find Luca staring quizzically at the stove.

"You okay?" Rebecca called, easing out into the hall.

Luca glanced up, her pouting expression spreading into surprise, "Fine. Just trying to figure out how this works."

Brow lifting, Rebecca pointed to the appliance, "You don't know how to work a stove."

"Never needed to before," Luca explained lightly, peering into the oven with a curious squint.

To Rebecca's utter confusion, Luca had no idea how to work a microwave or what the freezer was for. It took more than an hour to explain the difference between the stove top and the oven, and how to work them properly. At the end of it all, Rebecca still had her doubts that Luca would be able to boil water without burning the place down. They agreed that Luca wouldn't attempt to cook without Rebecca until she could get used to the process.

Without any actual food in the house to cook, Rebecca ordered some pizza and they settled into the threadbare couch to watch reality TV. Luca's sheer focus on the shows was yet another testament to the fact that she had either been very sheltered as a child, or she had been out of society for far too long. Rebecca spent the better part of an hour contemplating how a modern woman could go without learning how to make basic meals. Given Luca's relatively eccentric nature and her questionable ability to hold a job, Rebecca concluded that her new friend must have been a trust fund child venturing out into the world for the first time. She felt a little sorry for Luca, her naiveté unmasked and vulnerable.

The sun hadn't sunk below the horizon for more than fifteen minutes before there was a knock on their door, the sound hollow. Luca rose with a bright smile, her multi colored hair haloing out around her stunningly.

"Our first guest," she cried, running over to answer the knock.

Unsurprisingly, Eric stood at the threshold, his chin tilted downward, though his face was schooled in a genial expression.

"Mr. Northman," Luca greeted, "Come in."

"Thank you," He replied, stepping into the small living room.

Luca ducked her head, "You are welcome." She then looked at her bare wrist and exclaimed, "Oh, look at the time. I'm late."

Rebecca frowned, "Late? For what?" She was scrambling for a foothold, unsure if she wanted to be alone with a potentially angry Eric.

Luca shrugged, "Stuff… things." And then she was gone, hopping away daintily. Rebecca watched her go with an unhinged jaw, shocked that her so called friend had left her alone to face her own embarrassment.

Turning, Rebecca pushed her hair from her face and bit her lip, "Hey."

Eric's brow winged upwards, "You leave in the middle of the day without a goodbye and all you can say is 'hey'?"

She shrugged, "That's the only word that's coming to mind."

Suddenly, Eric was exasperated, "One of these days I'm going to stop chasing you around."

Rebecca shifted her weight, "I never wanted you to chase me around. I only wanted to survive the divorce—there wasn't much of a plan after that."

He looked dubious, "Is there a plan now?"

Again, Rebecca shrugged, "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

Eric loomed over her, pulling her close, "Then, let me make the decisions for you. Let me take control from here. You've worked long enough, struggled for too long. Let me ease this for you."

Rebecca relaxed only a little, "You know I don't want that. I want to be the driver of my own life, I want to be able to live my life on my own merit."

After a moment of silence, Eric seemed to come to a conclusion, his shoulders setting determinedly. "Fine. You'll make it in the world on your own." Lifting a hand, he asserted, "You will, however, make certain concessions for your safety."

Careful of Eric's meaning, Rebecca asked, "What concessions?"

Eric's smiled made Rebecca's heart flutter a little, the radiant knowledge of impending victory shining through. She felt the need to take a few steps back, blocked by Eric's unmovable arms as he held her still. His smile grew a little, his head tilting to the side as he observed her internal struggle.

"What atrocities are you imagining?" He murmured gently, moving further into her personal space. "Because you'll like what I have in mind."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, "What _do_ you have in mind?"

Chin lifting, Eric's demeanor took on that of a practiced business man making a desirable proposition. He guided her out of the living room and back towards her bedroom, one hand on the small of her back, pressing her forward. Rebecca allowed it only because she knew resistance would be met with a show of further strength that she couldn't hope to match. Once inside, she turned and faced Eric and, in a show of false bravado, placed her hands on her hips, regarding him expectantly.

"Well?"

With a slight jerk of his head, Eric proclaimed, "You'll take infusions of my blood regularly to keep my scent on you. You'll also continue to work for me so that I can protect you at night. You will learn to fire a gun and you will learn to be aware of your surroundings."

Rebecca balked at the many concessions she would have to make, her rebellious sense of independence firing rapidly. "I'll find work outside the bar and I will take self defense classes. I don't want to hold a gun."

Eric's mouth thinned, "The infusions will be at least weekly and your work occurs during the daylight hours, and you have a deal."

Brows coming together, Rebecca peered at him for a moment, thinking that, like so many happenings in her life lately, this had been far too easy for her liking. "What's the catch?"

He rolled one shoulder, "No catch. You take my blood, you work during the time when I cannot protect you. Blending into a crowd is an excellent form of security."

Shifting her weight, Rebecca bit her lip, "I'm not sure I believe you."

Eric sighed and reached up to grip her shoulders, "Let's play a game where you don't disagree with everything I say. For once, just take my words at face value."

Feeling a little shamed, Rebecca dropped her hands to her sides and nodded. "I'm sorry. It comes from experience."

Easing towards her, Eric growled, "I will give you new experiences to replace the old. I can consume your memory if you let me."

Eyebrows lifted, Rebecca whispered, "That's what I'm afraid of."

Eric's expression softened only a little, a testament to the control he held over his emotions. He dipped down to kiss her lightly, rubbing his nose over the line of her jaw. Rebecca let the weight of her head tilt backwards, exposing more of her throat for his exploration. He took her unspoken offer, pressing open mouthed kisses along the column of her throat, breath fanning over her skin. His teeth scraping gently was the only warning she got before he bit down, drawing a hissed breath from her lungs.

Rebecca held tightly to his shoulders, eyes gazing unseeing upwards towards the ceiling as he pulled with the timing of her heart. The muscle thundered in her chest, fueled by adrenaline and the excitement pulsing from the bite to her extremities. Shivering, she felt her body bend towards Eric as he continued to feed, the curve of her spine arching forward. There was something new in this particular bite, occurring neither under duress nor out of absolute necessity in fear of her life. Her blood, this time, was willingly and excitedly given and it gave a whole new dimension to the experience.

Eric pulled away, licking at the wound to close it. Then, with hardly a moment's hesitation, he bit into his wrist and held it to her mouth. Knowing this was the first test of her honor in their agreement; Rebecca took the offer and pressed her mouth to the lesion, sucking gently. As before, the blood was electrifying, shooting through her system with dazzling intensity. She couldn't help the little noise of satisfaction that squeaked forth as it filled her body, her veins, making the world's spin slow and tilt in a drugging way.

Conscious of her weakening body, Eric wrapped an arm around Rebecca's middle and laid her down on the unmade bed. He allowed the experience to continue for another half a minute before disengaging. Rebecca swallowed down the last of it, closing her eyes with the growing dizziness. Cognitively, she knew what the high of V could do to a person, had experienced Eric's particular designer drug many times. And yet, she was once again unprepared for the spark of his blood in her body, the sensations piling on top of one another in an endless loop.

"This is how I want you all the time," Eric grated, his body curling around her.

Rebecca giggled, "You want me high all the time?"

He shook his head, swiping one hand down the length of her body, "I want you soft like this. Pliant. Satisfied."

Feeling a surge of honesty, Rebecca turned her head to look over at him, "I'd rather be pliant, too, but pliant doesn't put food on the table. Pliant doesn't keep me alive."

Eric touched her mouth with a fingertip, "It could. I could take care of everything for you."

She rolled her eyes, "I think we just had this argument."

"We did," he agreed lightly, "I can hope for a change of mind. It is what women are known for, is it not?"

"Not this one," Rebecca countered. "I've made up my mind and I'm sticking to it."

He kissed her temple, settling in next to her, "Sounds like a challenge."

"I'm sure you'll rise to it," Rebecca sighed, feeling her body become heavy.

Eric poked her lightly, "No falling asleep. We have things to discuss."

Rebecca groaned lightly, "You're taking advantage."

Chuckling lowly, Eric whispered, "Of course I am. Now, sit up."

She pushed upwards with some help from Eric, sitting back into the headboard with a frown. Eric sat next to her, one hand possessively resting on her knee. The sensation of his cool palm on her body zinged along her nerves, forcing her to reset her attention a couple of times before she could comfortably focus on the upcoming conversation. She wanted to bite into the meat of that palm, taste the saltiness of his skin, to hear the growl she knew would follow. Rebecca shook her head, pushing the thoughts back and away for a rainy day.

Eric's pupils were dilated when she finally looked at him, signaling that he could at least guess where her imagination had gone. Rebecca ducked her head in embarrassment, fiddling with the worn hem of her t-shirt. He always seemed to have the advantage with her, always walking one step ahead while she struggled to keep up, at least when it came to their mutual attraction. She thought, forlornly, that it might always be that way between them.

"I hope you understand the effort I am expending to allow you this… house away from me," Eric began. When Rebecca simply scoffed, he continued, "Don't scoff at me. Most humans tied to vampires do not leave their presence for fear of being kidnapped. It would be painful to see you come to harm by an imbecile seeking to usurp me."

When Rebecca could fully understand what Eric was saying, she stopped cold. Eric's face was strained a little, though he was remarkably still for the possibility of being so uncomfortable. Emotion was not something Rebecca thought Eric did very well, and the admission must have cost him some pride. She warmed a little to him, the feeling still fuzzy against the blood high, but present nonetheless. It gave her an unfamiliar feeling of hope, something she normally tamped down with vicious intent. But, given the fact that she her body felt like it had catapulted into outer space, she let it slide. Tomorrow, Rebecca would seek it out and shove it beneath layers of experience and worry. Tonight, she'd let it hang free.

"I appreciate that," Rebecca said after a while, her head lolling to rest on Eric's shoulder. "I really do."

Lifting an arm, he pulled her into the curve of his chest, "You're mine and I take care of what is mine. You're going to have to get used to it."

Snorting, Rebecca patted his stomach with a little affection, "You know I'll fight you on it."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, "I wouldn't have it any other way."


	18. Chapter 18

**And here we go.**

Rebecca strolled into the thrift shop with some hesitation. The racks were still filled with last season's fads and the cashier behind the counter still looked bored. She sidled up to the counter, placing both hands on the glass.

"Can I talk with your manager?"

The cashier blinked, "Don't lean on the glass."

Startled, Rebecca jerked her hands back. "Sorry." Not sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her. "Um, your manager?"

Clucking his tongue lightly, the cashier—who didn't even have the decency to wear a nametag—called out, "Marge!"

There was a rumble of something being shoved around followed by an impatient, "Yeah?"

"Someone wants to talk to ya."

More sounds that were unidentifiable followed, and then a large ambling woman hefted through a tacky set of beaded curtains. She took a look at Rebecca, "What can I help you with?"

The wildly styled hair and the cigarette-roughened sound of Marge's voice momentarily took Rebecca back. She was imposing in height and flashy in dress, her eyes boring right into Rebecca as she stammered to find the words she so needed. She righted herself, pulling her shoulders back in a false display of confidence.

"I was wondering if you have any job openings. The sign outside said 'help wanted'."

Marge eyed her, "I might be. What's it to you?"

After three false starts and two lewd comments from previous attempts, Rebecca felt the urge to get it right rise up in her chest. She swallowed it back, drawing on the knowledge that she had years of experience in customer service.

"I'm looking for a job and I would like to work for you."

"Why?" Marge barked, clearly impatient.

Rebecca answered with a prepped speech tailored from the many low-level job interviews in the repertoire. "I think your… establishment would give me an excellent opportunity to hone my interpersonal skills and to use my sales knowledge."

After a beat, Marge guffawed loudly, "Get a load of that crap. And with such a hopeful expression."

She inhaled to catch her breath, "Still, I need a little help around here. These gams don't work like they used to."

Rebecca held her breath in anticipation, feeling her heart pick up its anxious rhythm in her chest.

Marge gave Rebecca one more once over, "Okay. The pay is minimum wage. You'll start by stocking the racks until I can trust you with the register."

Fists clenching in grateful excitement, Rebecca nodded, "I can start immediately."

"You can start tomorrow. Five am sharp."

Nodding, Rebecca thanked Marge and slipped out the door before anyone could change their mind. The ride back to the apartment was spent congratulating herself on a job well done and prepping her schedule in her head. Stocking shelves wasn't the ideal kind of work, but money was money and Rebecca was in desperate need of it.

The apartment was empty when Rebecca got back, Luca having found something to occupy her seemingly endless amounts of energy. Rebecca had woken that morning at the break of dawn to Luca's boisterous laughing. When Rebecca padded out, bleary eyed, Luca had greeted her with a smile, chastising her for sleeping so long. It took about ten minutes of explanation for Rebecca to impress upon the woman that four hours of sleep a night was, in fact, not normal. Later, when Luca disappeared, Rebecca checked the cabinets for medications.

With the apartment to herself, Rebecca settled onto the couch. She was still riding the high of the previous night's ingestion of Eric's blood and even though her mind was fatigued, her body still hummed with energy. Rising, she headed to her room, determined to take stock of her life. The closet held a little over a week's worth of clothing and two pairs of shoes—one pair of sneakers and another pair of flats. Her underwear was paltry at best and every pair of socks looked to be frayed. The bed had the only real bit of comfort, two downy pillows and a soft, fluffy comforter. She supposed they were extras Luca had from her previous home.

Determined to move forward, Rebecca found a piece of scrap paper and a discarded neon gel pen in the kitchen. She then sat on the couch and used the slightly unbalanced coffee table to write out a list of necessities. When she got her first check, she would knock a few items off the list so that she could, at the very least, start to feel like she belonged in this town, in this apartment. For the last few months, Rebecca's life had been nomadic, moving from temporary home to temporary home. She decided that from then on she would make every attempt to be settled into her new Brandon-less life.

One snack and a several hour long nap-that-wasn't later, Luca returned from…wherever, calling out to Rebecca. Knowing that any hope of sleep would be fruitless, Rebecca eased off her bed and headed out into the living room. Luca was busy throwing pillows on the couch and setting candles on every available surface.

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked, one brow winging upwards.

Luca barely paused in her work, "I'm making it homey."

"Homey," Rebecca echoed lamely.

Looking up briefly, Luca confirmed, "Yes. Homey. As in, characteristic of a home. Really, Rebecca, you must keep up."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, but let the barb slide, "I certainly appreciate the effort."

A bright smile lit up Luca's face, "Well, thank you. I did so want to make this place a nice home for us."

Squinting at the smaller woman, Rebecca continued to watch Luca arrange little knick knacks and still more candles. There seriously had to be fifty of them standing in the room currently and Luca still had two bags left to unpack. The arrangement and rearrangement of the acquired homey items took another half an hour, most of which Rebecca spent sitting on the kitchen counter watching in amazement. When, finally, Luca was satisfied, she sat cross legged on the couch and admired her work.

After a moment, Luca muttered, "Something isn't right."

Rebecca tilted her head to the side, "It looks good, Luca. Really good."

She shook her head, her multicolored hair flying out from her face in the movement, "I did it wrong, didn't I?"

When Luca stood and made to take all of the candles and pillows down, Rebecca rose and stopped her gently. "There's no right way to make a home, Luca. You decorate however you like, with whatever makes you comfortable. That's the point."

Luca pursed her lips and contemplated the room, "You're sure I did it right?"

"Absolutely," Rebecca assured her, patting Luca lightly on the back. Then, in an effort to pull Luca's attention from the décor, she declared, "I got a new job today."

Luca smiled, "Well done. Where?"

"At that thrift shop we went to a while back," Rebecca answered, "I start tomorrow."

Spurring unceremoniously into action, Luca headed for the kitchen, "This calls for a celebration, I think."

Reaching into a high cabinet, Luca pulled out a dark brown bottle and two wide rimmed tumblers. She poured the thick liquid into the glasses, shooting mischievous looks at Rebecca. "I got this when I left home last year. I've been saving it for a special occasion."

Shy, Rebecca demurred, "This isn't _that_ special of an occasion. You should save that for… a christening or something."

Luca rolled her eyes, pressing the cork back into the bottle and sliding it to the side. She handed Rebecca one of the paired glasses, saying, "It's my wine and I'll have the final say on what special occasion I use it for."

Rebecca took the glass reluctantly, "If you say so." Then, "What should we toast to?"

Without missing a beat, Luca raised her glass, announcing in a loud voice, "To new beginnings."

Smiling, Rebecca gave a short salute to the toast before tentatively sipping at the wine, her cheeks hollowing with the dry, heavy taste. She hissed a breath as it burned a path past her throat and down into the pit of her stomach where it sat heavily. Luca took one look at her expression and laughed merrily, her eyes flashing with knowledge.

"They say its best consumed slowly for those who aren't used to it," she advised, sidestepping Rebecca and sitting daintily on the couch. "Come sit with me."

Easing down onto the cushion, Rebecca continued to delicately sip the wine, mostly out of deference to her—could she call her a friend? Luca was certainly _friendly_. She offered help and housing and food to Rebecca without asking for anything in return, at least nothing yet. There was this openness about the woman that intrigued Rebecca as much as the mystery that surrounded her. Rebecca had no idea where Luca came from, who her people were, or what her intentions were in Louisiana. She could fight, as evidenced by their escapade in the church, and she was obviously familiar with vampires and other creatures of the night. Still, the woman sitting in front of her looked nothing like the woman she'd seen while fighting for her life, nor like the woman she'd seen flirting subtly with Godric. A chameleon, Rebecca decided. That was what Luca was.

Luca folded her legs beneath her, giving Rebecca a contemplative look, "What do you dream about?"

Surprised by the boldness of the question, Rebecca stuttered a little before saying, "I dream like normal people, I guess."

"Yes," Luca confirmed lightly, "What do most people dream about?"

Taking a sip of wine to stall for time, Rebecca searched for her words, "I guess they dream about a lot of things. They dream about people they love, or hate. They dream about memories they've experienced. Or they have nightmares."

Brows drawing together, Luca urged, "What are nightmares?"

"Bad dreams," Rebecca replied, confused by the sudden gravity of the conversation, "Things that scare us."

"Oh," Luca pronounced with a sigh, "We call them omens."

Grasping to the faint bit of new knowledge, Rebecca repeated, "We?"

"My family," Luca answered with a slight smile. "We call bad dreams 'omens.'"

Leaning forward slightly, Rebecca rolled one wrist, asking wordlessly for her to continue. When Luca failed to understand the gesture, she articulated the only thought she might have as to what Luca's family life entailed. "Are you witches?"

Luca's giggle would have been infectious if Rebecca hadn't been so focused on the answer, "Close enough, I guess."

Swallowing back the rest of the glass of wine, Rebecca barreled ahead, "Can you do magic?"

Luca nodded, "People like to say I'm quite talented, but I think that's just the bloodline. Some people are just born with natural skills, I guess."

Her explanation was said with such a casual tone that Rebecca almost missed the indication that Luca had intimate knowledge of magical bloodlines and that she could, in fact, perform advanced magic. Having seen little to no magical undertakings in her lifetime, Rebecca almost asked for a demonstration, hesitating when it occurred to her that such a request might be misconstrued as rude. She held back, just barely.

A moment later, Rebecca felt the head change that came with drinking wine, though one glass should not have blurred her vision so suddenly. She pressed her hands to her face and swallowed a suddenly dry lump that appeared in her throat. Across the couch, she could hear Luca setting her glass aside and shimmying over to her. Soft, small hands pulled her head back up to sit rightly on her shoulders and wide eyes scanned for injury.

"I wasn't sure if it would hit you this hard," Luca murmured. "Are you alright?"

Rebecca nodded, "Just need to get my bearings."

Getting her bearings turned out to be difficult as the room seemed to shift around her before settling into something that was not quite right. All the furniture and decorations were still in their place, but it was as if everything has moved just a little left of center. That, and her ex husband was sitting in the armchair, still disemboweled and scowling.

"What are you seeing?" Luca whispered, her eyes following Rebecca's gaze.

"My ex husband," Rebecca answered, one hand reaching out as if to test the vision for validity. "He's sitting over there, bleeding all over the place."

Luca nodded, "That happens sometimes. The ghosts come back to haunt us."

A thought dawned slowly on Rebecca, "I'm hallucinating."

The vision of Brandon thought this might be a good time to intervene, "You're damn right you're hallucinating. Look at what your fuck buddy did to me." He held up an intestine.  
>"I'm sorry," Rebecca replied reflexively. "I don't control him."<p>

Luca leaned down to speak in soft tones, "Tell him to get away. Tell him you don't need him."

Rebecca glanced at Luca for a moment before returning her attention to Brandon, who was fiddling with his stomach and liver. "You're dead. You can't be here."

Brandon looked up from arranging his innards, "I can be wherever I want to be. And right now, I'm thinking of haunting you for the rest of your mortal life."

Incensed, Rebecca stood, sending Luca backwards, off balance. "You get right on out of my life. I don't need you any more, haven't needed you for a long time. You are dead, and you can't be here anymore. Go… be wherever dead people go."

Luca chuckled, "Good start. Now, shoo him out the door."

Incredulous, Rebecca looked down at Luca, who was already moving around the coffee table and to the pantry. She pulled out a broom and tossed it to Rebecca. "Go on, then."

Feeling just a little bit silly and pretty damn drunk, Rebecca shrugged and made a sweeping motion with the broom. Brandon's ghostly vision wavered, his scowl deepening. She did it again, and again, until the vision disintegrated into little tiny dust particles, which she swept into a pile. Luca guided her to the door, opening it so the Rebecca could sweep the mess out into the hallway. She then closed the door with a resounding thump, dusting her hands with finality.

The practical and rational part of Rebecca's mind rebelled at the comedy of the act, but she was enjoying it far too much to give it any notice. Plopping down on the couch next to Luca, she laughed for a few minutes, until her sides and cheeks ached with the continued tension. Then, when her body had settled, she felt a languid stupor rush over her in a slow tide.

"Thank you," Rebecca murmured. "I think I needed that."

Luca laughed merrily, "No problem. Now, I think I should have given you half a glass because you look very fatigued. I will help you to bed."

Rebecca was about to protest when the very act of standing took too much of a toll. She gave herself a mental note to drink much more slowly of the mysteriously potent wine and to take only half a glass from then on. Rolling into bed, Rebecca laid on her back while Luca pulled the covers over her and turned off the lights, closing the door behind. The ceiling moved in undulating waves above Rebecca, relaxing her rather than making her feel sick to her stomach, as with most intoxications in her experience. She watched them go interminably, while the sun set outside her window.

When, finally, she drifted off to sleep, Rebecca began to dream about walking carelessly through darkened streets. There were gas lamps lit all along the way and the air smelled acidic and stained with particles of dirt. Everything was clearly outlined in her vision despite the new moon and the few and far between pinnacles of fire. Storefronts were beginning to close and people were starting their journeys home, but Rebecca somehow felt that the evening was just beginning for her. She felt a bout of adrenaline coursing through her veins and the fever of something coming in the back of her mind. There was an ache in her body that didn't quite feel like tiredness, but somehow was tied to being awake far too long, as if memories were anchoring her feet to the concrete.

The muscles of her back tightened as she moved quickly from one side of the street to the other, eyes trained on a pair of men talking loudly as they walked. Her step never faltered, never sped up, but she kept pace with them easily. One man—she could see that he was an older gentleman—stopped for a moment to check his pocket watch, a hand touching his moustache. Rebecca automatically felt a distaste for his age, for his frailty. She turned her attention to the younger, more enticing specimen. He looked full of rigor and life, healthy by the age's standards, and clean. She liked them clean.

The pair separated about three blocks down, the elder man easing into his home and turning in for the night. The younger, it seemed, still had a bit of a walk before reaching his home for the night. Rebecca followed, gently easing forward into his space until she was no more than a few feet behind him. Her steps lightened until they were barely a whisper, until she fairly floated over the concrete, until she was close enough.

Striking out, Rebecca grabbed the man around the neck and yanked him into a nearby alley, muffling his screams by cutting off his air supply. She pulled him deeper into the darkness and around a hidden corner until they were so ensconced into the alley that not a soul would interrupt her. As the man's struggles began to slow with the lack of oxygen, Rebecca pulled his head to the side and felt her teeth ache with the need to pierce the skin. She rubbed her tongue along the sharp ridges, feeling them descend into their proper place. Without further hesitation, she lunged, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

There was nothing in Rebecca's life that could compare with the taste that flowed into her mouth as she drew the man's life into her body. It was sweeter than caramel, thicker than cream, and more satisfying than any of her most favored carbohydrates. Buzzing with electric sensation, the blood zinged through her body, rejuvenating the cells she could feel dying every moment she went without feeding. She felt her hands clench at the body, pulling it closer so that she could draw deeper from the well of his veins, her teeth piercing yet again to widen the wound.

When the last of it was consumed, Rebecca dropped the man to the ground, wiping at her face to get at the remnants. For a moment, she looked down at the corpse, admiring the clean bite, the effortless death. For such a rampant population, humanity was easily killed, easily hunted. This crumpled body couldn't possibly be an accurate representation of the human race that so dominated the planet. It was weak, puny, putting less than a quarter of a fight for its life. And yet, it provided her with such rich sustenance that she could not help but to begrudgingly admit she needed them to survive—like a farmer needed a cow for milk.

Knowing that there would likely be more people wandering the streets and not wanting to expend the energy of flying, Rebecca sought out a broken window in the alley to check her appearance. She pressed the blonde length of hair back from her face, straightening her tie and the lapels of her jacket. Hunting had become less and less of a sport and she had long ago stopped carrying extra clothing for the blood spatter. She ran her hand over the strong cut of her jaw, catching a flash of blue in her eyes. The game was tired, coaxing maidens into bed and drinking from them as they came around her was still mildly satisfying, but she longed for the days when she and Godric would hunt across the land, amidst wars and warriors, alike. She missed the intensity and the ferocity that had been lost on this new generation of people, so content with their sedentary lives. Sickened, she turned back into the night.

Rebecca woke the next morning to the sound of Luca calling her to help with breakfast. She sat up in bed, the memory playing out once more in her mind. She had hunted, she had killed, she had existed, if only for a moment, in Eric's mind. Granted, it could have been an elaborate hallucination brought on by admittedly the strongest wine she'd ever had. But, the feeling of her teeth sinking into flesh remained with her, and her gums tingled with the thought. Swallowing, Rebecca pushed from the bed and hurried out into the kitchen, hoping to forget the dream and hoping she could get to Luca before the woman burned the house down.

**I was hesitant to write this final part, not sure if I would get inside Eric's mind correctly. I'm mostly happy with it. Let me know what you think. **


	19. Chapter 19

**With the Chapters for Queen Takes Rook pretty much finished, I have the opportunity to really nail down the end of this story. Look for extra chapters in the coming weeks.  
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Rebecca's first day at work started out in the most dull way imaginable. Marge opened the store for her, gave vague directions on the location of important items, then promptly showed her to the stock room. Rebecca's stomach somersaulted in her belly as she took in the mountains of clothing, unsorted, stacked very nearly to the ceiling. There was one set of shelves in the back, overflowing with shoes and garments, that was completely inaccessible. Marge stood at the door, leaning heavily on the jamb, and told her to make sense of the mess. Before Rebecca could ask the necessary follow up question of 'how?', she was left to her own devices.

It took several minutes for Rebecca to orient herself against the daunting task that lay before her. Having never been passive about solving problems, she quickly shoved a small perimeter around her so that she could have space to work. Then, knowing that mood music went a long way towards making time go faster, she left the store room to hunt down a radio. The first one she found had a cord snapped in half—she disposed of it—the second was so ancient Rebecca couldn't figure out the dial. After digging through a pile of old keyboards, Rebecca found a boom box from the 90's and plugged it in. She fiddled with the knobs until she found a contemporary station, then set herself to work.

Working steadily for a few hours, Rebecca managed to create a system. She had piles for shoes, shirts, jeans, pants, suits, and miscellaneous objects. Those piles grew very large, very quickly, and Rebecca was left with trying to figure out another problem of sorting space. Luckily, Marge took that moment to send Rebecca on her break. Half an hour for lunch, consisting of a sandwich and pretzels brought from home that morning. Needing a break from the shop, Rebecca took her lunch bag outside and sat at the far end of the store.

As it was still early morning, there wasn't much in the way of pedestrian traffic. Rebecca watched, anyway, noting that the gas station down the street was similarly empty. The employees were taking inventory and seemed to be throwing out old furniture from the office. Tossing back the rest of her sandwich, Rebecca shoved the pretzels back into the bag for a snack later. She stood and dusted off her clothes, hightailing it to the station.

"Hey," she called out, waving at the clerk. "Are you throwing those away?"

The clerk glanced down at the folding table, "Yeah. We ordered an actual desk for the back room."

Rebecca gave her most winning smile, "Since you're throwing it out, do you mind if I take it off your hands? We need some extra tables at the store."

The clerk nodded, gesturing, to Rebecca's prize. "Not at all. We have, like, four more of these, if you want them."

Controlling her joy, Rebecca bounced on her toes and accepted the generous offer. With five new tables hauled the hundred yards to the thrift store, Rebecca was able to have a place to sort and fold the clothes and other assorted items in the store room. She managed, by the end of her shift, to put a dent in the mountain 'o' garments about the size of a small sofa. Marge checked her work with a harrumph and sent her home for the day. On her way out, Rebecca waved to the cashier. He didn't wave back.

Though the afternoon had just begun, Rebecca was exhausted by the time she got home. Barely bothering to shuck her shoes, she flopped down on her bed and dropped into unconsciousness. When she woke, the sun was dipping below the horizon and Luca was talking lowly in the living room. Rebecca listened for a few minutes, unable to decipher actual words, the shoved her groggy body out of bed.

Grabbing a few essential items, she headed for the bathroom, intent on having a shower. The bathroom was decorated similarly to the living room with a multitude of candles, each sitting in clusters over the counters and shelves. She threw her clothes on the closed seat of the toilet and turned on the water, testing the temperature before stripping down to her bare skin. The steam and heat helped to soothe her tired body and cleaning the dust from her body was, in a cliché, heavenly. When her limbs hung loose and pliable, Rebecca turned off the water and toweled off. After dressing, she wrung out the excess water, from her hair and gathered her dirty clothes. Stepping from the bathroom, she threw her clothes into her bedroom as she made her way towards the living room. Luca was sitting on the couch, looking contemplative as she stared out the window.

Rebecca greeted her roommate with a smile, "First day of work went well."

Dropping from her reverie, Luca bounced from the couch to standing in a flash, "That's wonderful."

"I'm pretty happy about it," Rebecca replied as she grabbed a glass from one of the cupboards in the kitchen. In glancing upwards, she caught sight of the bottle of wine from the previous night, sitting innocently on a high shelf.

Turning, Rebecca asked, "What is that stuff, anyways?"

Luca leaned on the counter, smiling genially, "Regular old wine."

"Wine doesn't make you hallucinate," Rebecca intoned as she filled her glass with water.

Shrugging, Luca lifted nimbly up so that she was sitting on the counter, her feet kicking out childishly, "As I said, 'old wine'. My father kind of owns a vineyard that has been making the stuff for centuries."

"Really," Rebecca said as she sipped from the cool glass in her hand. "Are you two close?"

Eyes softening, Luca shook her head, "We used to be. But, he wanted me to take over the… family business. It really wasn't in my life plan."

"You know," Rebecca began, feeling like she had a little wisdom on the subject, "Having close family can help make things a little easier. When I got married, my parents disowned me. They still won't speak to me—not like I've tried to call recently." She sighed, "I guess what I'm trying to say is the burning bridges isn't always the best thing to do where family is concerned."

Luca laughed without humor, "I am all too aware of that. But, if I hadn't left, I wouldn't have met you. And then we wouldn't be friends, and you would still be in that awful room at Fangtasia." Her smile, when it came, was genuine. "I think it was meant to be."

Rebecca almost rolled her eyes as the sentiment, but refrained because Luca's expression was so earnest. Regardless of how young she seemed, how naïve, she was the most sincere person Rebecca had ever met. Luca didn't seem capable of lying, nor did she seem capable of leading anyone into danger, an anomaly in Rebecca's life.

Nodding, Rebecca lifted her glass in a mock toast, "I'm glad we're friends."  
>"Me, too," Luca said, one hand touching her hair. Her eyes flicked to the side and squinted a half a second before a knock sounded from their front door. She smiled, winking at Rebecca before sauntering off to her room and closing the door.<p>

Rebecca, still holding her glass awkwardly, set it down and went to answer the knock. Eric stood at the threshold, looking far too handsome for a man wearing a t shirt and jeans. His smile was blinding and Rebecca had to swallow as her mouth twitched with the muscle memory of kissing him. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, Rebecca cocked one hip and rested her weight on the door.

"Hey there, stranger," she drawled.

Eric dropped his chin a little, acknowledging her greeting, "I thought I would take you out on a real date tonight."

Rebecca's brows hit her hairline, "The great untouchable Eric wants to take me out on a date?"

He tossed his head, rolling his eyes, "Come on."

Grabbing her hand, Eric pulled her out of the house, the door falling shut behind her. Rebecca protested ardently, stating that she wasn't even wearing shoes. Eric was hearing none of it, instead reaching down to grab a picnic basket that she hadn't seen previously and hauling her to his chest. They were in the air before she could breathe another word, flying over the city. Rebecca didn't think that she would ever get used to the feeling of flying, but the solid feeling of Eric's arms around her eased her natural anxiety.

They landed outside the city in a nature reserve that Rebecca had only passed on the highway. Eric chose a spot beneath a tree with low hanging branches, letting her slide down to the ground safely. Rebecca stepped away and watched as he opened the basket and pulled a soft blue sheet from the depths, flicking it out to lay in a wide spread on the ground. He then laid out several Tupperware containers with blue lids and a bottle of wine. Rebecca eased to the ground, folding her legs beneath her as Eric popped open the containers. Inside was an array of fruits, yogurt, and small desserts, the likes of which Rebecca hadn't seen since she'd snuck into that convention her senior year of high school.

Taking the napkin from him, Rebecca reached out to take a piece of pineapple from one of the containers only to have her hand slapped away. She raised a brow at Eric. He smiled. Scooting closer, Eric plucked up a piece of fruit with two fingers and held it to her lips. She hesitated only a moment before leaning forward and grasping it with her teeth, pulling it into her mouth and chewing. Eric tapped her closed lips lightly before reaching for another piece of fruit. The process went on, Eric choosing different fruits and sometimes dipping them in yogurt, cream, or chocolate mousse.

When a little of the juice dripped around the seam of her mouth, Rebecca lifted the napkin, once more stopped by Eric's hands. He eased downwards and licked the trail from the tip of her chin to her lips, swirling the muscle around to touch her teeth before pulling back. Without skipping a beat, he picked up another piece of fruit and pressed it to her mouth, barely waiting for her to being to chew before sucking the juice from her lower lip.

After a moment, he repeated the process, this time with a strawberry and whipped cream. He barely bothered with the pretense of feeding her this time, swiping the bit of fruit across her mouth to spread the cream over the fleshy part of her mouth. The kiss this time was filled with little bites from the sharp edges of his front teeth. Rebecca inhaled deeply, calmed and excited by the scent of him, the strange coolness of his skin a balm against her quickly heating flesh. She touched his face lightly, tracing her fingers across the line of his jaw, her fingertips tingling with the sensation.

Leaning away, Eric grasped the wine bottle and yanked a little on the top, the glass sliding away in a clean cut. He poured a small glass and handed it to her. Taking it gratefully, Rebecca took a large gulp, trying to stay her senses for a minute while Eric looking on with a focused expression. He allowed her another drink before taking the glass from her and resuming the kiss. It built with a sharp incline, his mouth taking without mercy, drawing her to him. She held on tightly, allowing Eric to guide her down to the ground.

"You smell like me," he groaned. "I love it."

Rebecca was unable to reply, her mouth thoroughly occupied with entertaining Eric's questing tongue. He palmed her hip, tuning her so that they lay side by side. Carding his hands through her hair, Eric tilted her head backwards, working his way down her neck with short, peppered kisses. Rebecca gripped Eric's t shirt, pulling at the fabric in an effort to get closer. He hitched her thigh over his hip, rolling a little so that he rested over her. Palms on either side of her head, Eric rose above her, arching downwards to give her more drugging kisses that made her forget that they were in the middle of a very public park.

Dropping more of his weight on her, Eric reached down and hoisted her knees so that they were snug against his hips. Rebecca fought to keep her wits about her, reminding herself that they were outside, that anyone could possibly see them. She pulled away, breathing hard, turning her head to the left in an effort to clear her thoughts.

"No, no, no," Eric chastised roughly, biting down on the muscle of her neck. He rucked up the fabric of her shirt, sliding his hands beneath the fabric of her bra and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

Arching back, Rebecca squeezed her thighs together, Eric's hips keeping her from clenching too tightly. She moaned, twisting her body to keep the sensations rocking through her body at bay. He refused to allow it, hoisting her up so that he could have access to more of her skin.

"I want to bite you, fuck you, rub myself all over you," he rasped. "Come home with me."

Rebecca tried to breathe, tried to keep herself firmly rational. In a crazy way this was her first date with him, despite several near death experiences and exchanges in blood. Her mother's voice sounded in her ear in the same tone she remembered following her as she drove off with Brandon. She was a hussy, a shameless hussy.

Eric growled at her, his arms tightening near to the point of pain as he tried to haul her closer. It was as if he was trying to crawl inside her, to cross the boundaries of their skin to that those boundaries no longer existed. Body burning hot, Rebecca pushed at his shoulders, trying to dislodge so that she could think. No drug had ever been so tempting, no addiction so enthralling as the vampire above her. She couldn't risk making another mistake like that last, wanted to take her time with Eric. But, the growls in his chest grew louder by the second, his hands and mouth feverish against her body, teeth extending and scraping seductively over the mound of her breast.

"Please," he bit out, lifting his head to look at her.

Rebecca's thoughts paused, stilling on a dime. She gazed down the length of her heaving chest, noting how tightly her hands were buried in his shirt, the knuckles stark white. He waited as patiently as someone like Eric could, his hand kneading the flesh at her hip, urging her to decide quickly. She must have been taking too long for him because he squeezed gently, repeating his plea.

He wanted her, Rebecca had always known that. Part of the blood in her veins also burned through his, connecting them despite their differences. It was foolhardy to believe that he had no power over her, had no sway. In some ways Eric was the center of her spinning world, the axis on which her life turned. He had changed so many things, had instilled such fear and fascination that Rebecca knew she would not deny him this time. She knew he would do all the things he said and more, binding them together ever more tightly.

Eric saw her decision before she voiced it, lifting her with ease and moving with liquid grace to the air. Rebecca had no time to take her unspoken words back, his kisses beginning almost immediately. The flashing air around her ripped at her hair, freezing her skin. They were in the familiar bedroom at Fangtasia in seconds, tumbling down onto the bed in a heap of limbs. Her clothes were gone, shredded to pieces. She didn't have the opportunity to uncover his body as she would have liked, exploring with each bit of new skin. Eric was far too impatient, naked before she could blink and pressing her back onto the bed. His erection pressed against her, slipping against her folds as he rocked his hips.

Biting down on her lip, Rebecca let her knees fall to the side, the arch of her calf sliding down his thigh and flexing to urge him on. Teasing her with tiny movements forward, Eric traced her collarbone with his tongue, eyes shining with arousal. She whined as she tried to get him deeper, lifting her hips in invitation. Eric smiled against her skin, resting on his elbows, his arms caging her on either side. With a sharp motion, he drove himself inside, the invasion stretching her. Rebecca cried out in pain, face scrunching. The movements on his hips were powerful, forcing her to remember that he was incredibly strong.

Surging forward, Eric hissed out something she didn't understand, the words too low and unfamiliar. Rebecca tilted her hips upwards, scrambling with the sheets to catch her balance as he quickened his pace. His thrusts were bruising, but the pleasure boiled up inside her in spite of it. She scratched at his back, using her feet to meet him. Her legs burned from the exertion, her chest contracting with each new and hurried breath. She could feel every inch of her skin as it rubbed against him, could taste the power he was barely holding in check.

Lifting, Eric brought her up to straddle him, the force of his hips throwing her off balance. Guiding her hands around his shoulders, Eric leaned down to press his forehead to hers, sharing breaths with her for a moment. Then, moving slow enough so as to give her warning, he shifted to the side and pressed his fangs to her throat. The skin spread with ease, offering her blood to him without pretense. She groaned as he increased the pressure, his lips pulling rhythmically.

Rebecca could feel her body shaking, could feel it climbing higher with each new shot of adrenaline. It pooled around her, skimming up her spine, guided by the expertise of her lover. He forced her hips higher, using his own strength to supplement as her body stuttered in its movements. Rebecca used her own internal muscles to squeeze him, to increase the friction in the only way she could given their position. She ground down on him, relishing the small sounds he made around the skin at her throat, her mind going foggy.

The colors of the comforter swirling, her vision blurring. Rebecca exhaled roughly, trying to clear her sight, darkness encroaching on the outer edges. He was taking too much, feeding too deeply, and Rebecca knew she was going to pass out. She yanked at his hair, which only seemed to spur him, his teeth sinking deeper.

"Eric," she hissed. "Too much."

She could feel him shake his head minutely, the pull on her skin still strong. The darkness crept steadily around her—she didn't have a lot of time. Rebecca called out again, words starting to slur. She had to slow him down, had to keep him from draining the very life from her.

Using the only weapon she had available to her, Rebecca arched over him and opened her mouth over his skin. Her teeth gripped the shaking muscle and she could feel the instant that the skin broke. His blood poured forth with surprising intensity, flooding her mouth and pulsing down her throat. The groan that had started with her teeth marking his skin, grew to a dull roar, shaking the bed. Eric reared back, dislodging them both and falling back to the bed. Rebecca landed atop him, body flopping forward like some kind of rag doll.

Eric didn't need breath, but the habit of breathing hard was strong even in vampires. He gasped beneath her, arms reaching up lazily to hold her. Belatedly, Rebecca felt him pulse inside her, inciting an answering shiver in her own body. Unable to move, she simply lay while her heart slowed.

"That was new," Eric declared with a smirk.

Rebecca made a noncommittal noise of question.

He chuckled, "It's been a long time since anyone has bitten me the old fashioned way."

"Don't get used to it," she grunted as she rolled to the side.

Eric glanced at her, eyes flicking down to check her wound. He reached up and touched his fingertips to his fangs, pressing them to her bloodied neck. "I was, probably, a little too rough with you."

"S'alright." Her body was so tired, sleep already coming despite the rush of adrenaline in the previous moments.

Eric hummed, eased to lie between her legs once more. He pressed long kisses to her stomach, tongue dipping sensuously into her bellybutton.

"How can you have energy?" Rebecca huffed.

He shot her a look that told her the answer was obvious and that he was too busy with other things to explain. Inching downwards, Eric touched her inner thighs, indicating the need for more space. Rebecca accommodated him, body already thrumming with anticipation. He looked at her, spread for him, for a moment, expression dark. Then, he traced the outer edges of her sex, dipping inside to gather more moisture. His lips followed the path of his hands, tongue scraping along her sensitive flesh reigniting the fire he'd stoked not long before. She turned her hips, seeking more friction, rewarded with the motion of his hands and mouth. He curled his fingers, pressing up and out into her body until her hips shot up and her chin tilted back sharply. Rebecca rode out the waves of orgasm on his mouth, his tongue, the sharp slice of his teeth, until she had to push at him to stop.

Staring up at the ceiling, Rebecca panted for breath, blushing when she heard him suck on his fingers. She scrubbed at her face with her palms, trying to regulate… well, anything. Her heart, her lungs, her skin, were all heavily sensitized and Rebecca found it hard to think.

Eric dropped down next to her, rubbing one hand across her belly. "You should rest."

"Planned on it," Rebecca shot back with a laugh. "I'm going to be sore for work in the morning."

"The thrift shop," Eric intoned with not a little derision. "Pam told me."

Rebecca's head shot up, "You're having her follow me?"

Eric gave her a sardonic look, "No. Marge is one of our regular customers."

Stunned, and not a little disturbed by the indication that Marge would frequent the audacious establishment, Rebecca could only drop her head back to the mattress and wonder silently.

Then, "How did you know I was working for her?"

He sighed, pulling her effortlessly into the cradle of his body, "You're marked by me, Rebecca."

His explanation probably would have made sense to another vampire, but Rebecca couldn't really make heads or tails of it. There was no outward indication of his presence, not even the bite marks he consistently healed. How could Marge see it plainly when Rebecca couldn't even see it in her own body? She made a mental note to ask, but resigned herself to being in the dark about how all things vampiric worked in practice. Eric was rock solid and real. Everything else she could understand was gravy.


	20. Chapter 20

Rebecca didn't see Luca for three days and she was sorely tempted to call in a missing persons report to the police. She sat on the counter in the kitchen, staring at the phone and chewing on her nail. In an effort to give Luca the benefit of the doubt, Rebecca had called Sookie and asked her to see what she could do about reading through the town's thoughts. Luca was a grown woman, if a little naïve, and Rebecca had to fight the maternal urge welling up inside her to protect her roommate. Luca had proven that she didn't need Rebecca's help and could damn well fight her way out of any situation, if necessary. The feeling lingered despite that understanding.

The knock at the door startled her. She recovered quickly, rushing over to answer it. Sookie stood at the threshold with two coffees and a sad smile. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and there was a red rim around her puffy eyes.

"You didn't find anything."

Shaking her head, Sookie stepped inside and handed her one of the still warm cups. "I'm sorry. No one has seen her."

Rebecca sighed and looked around the room, "If she's dead, I won't be able to afford the rent on this place."

It was a sad truth. Even as small as the apartment was, Rebecca would not make enough at the thrift shop to cover both rent and expenses and still eat. Errantly, she thought that she was grateful her name wasn't on the lease and breaking it wouldn't necessarily be too difficult. At least her credit wouldn't take another major hit following her divorce.

"You can come stay with me," Sookie offered, sliding onto the couch.

Rebecca smiled, joining her friend on the cushions, "I can't keep imposing on you."

Sookie scoffed, "It ain't imposing if I ask you."

Leaning into her seat, Rebecca crossed her arms, "You know, for once, I just want to be able to support myself. I feel like I keep failing to launch."

She was an adult, damn it, and she needed to learn to get her shit together. She couldn't keep allowing people to rush in and save her when she was in a tight spot. Granted, those tight spots had been life threatening of late, but the point stood on principle.

Expression soft, Sookie said, "You have to stop thinking like that."

Rebecca nodded, "You're right. I just have to get my shit together and handle my life."

Her friend laughed, throwing her head back. Blonde curls dropped back onto the fabric of the couch, catching the light from the sun. Rebecca hadn't seen Sookie laugh so hard since she'd been back, the weight of whatever the woman was dealing with on a daily basis seeming to follow her around like a shadow.

"That's also the wrong way to think about it," Sookie gasped, wiping at the skin below her eyes with relief. "Nobody has their shit together. That's the biggest secret of life."

Brow rising, Rebecca replied, "When did you become a philosopher?"

Sookie shrugged, "I listen to the thoughts of every person in this town. After a while, you learn that, no matter what people look like, they always have stuff that they're working through."

Rebecca was tempted to roll her eyes, but something in Sookie's face indicated that she was speaking from experience and not just spouting off bullshit she'd read somewhere in a self help book. Having read enough of those to fill a small library, Rebecca knew the lingo, knew the jargon of those trying to help and failing miserably. People who have never experienced true difficulty, have never understood what it was like to seriously consider ending everything because in doing so the pain would stop, cannot even begin to understand and help those who have experienced those things. They can talk all they like, hold your hand, and pat your back. But, having never been there, all they can do is drive a person deeper into their shell in repulsion of their inexperience.

Sookie, though, had gained something dark since the last time Rebecca had seen her. She'd seen something that had turned the ever shining sun in her heart a little more dim. It was almost sad for Rebecca to come upon this realization in the course of a few seconds. Sookie was sunlight and smiles and cheer. She was sweet Southern charm and hospitality. What had gone wrong? She guessed that the passing of her grandmother might have been the catalyst. But, there was something more, she thought. Something deeper and darker. Rebecca shook her head minutely. That was a conversation for another time.

"You're a good friend," Rebecca said, sipping her coffee just to have something to do with her hands.

Sookie chuckled, "I hope so. I've been neglecting you a little, I think."

With a huff, Rebecca finally did roll her eyes, "If anyone has been neglecting, it's me. I've been kind of caught up in things."

"Speaking of _things_," Sookie drawled with a smirk, "How's Eric?"

She couldn't have stopped the blush, even if she tried. Eric was wonderful. Eric was endearing. Eric was… Eric. And he was personally responsible for the extra cardio she'd picked up over the last few days. Rebecca swore she'd lost ten pounds with the exercise, alone.

"Good," Rebecca edged. "He's good."

Sookie's smirk widened, "Just good?"

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, "Alright, he's awesome. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"It's different, isn't it? Being with a vampire?"

Indeed it was. Rebecca hesitated to make comparisons, but the difference between Brandon and Eric were remarkable, to say the least. She couldn't quite say that it was the vampirism that was the mitigating factor. They were simply two completely different people and her relationship with them was set on different grounds. Brandon controlled her, worked to subdue and change the things he didn't like about her. Eric seemed to revel in her humanity, was careful in handling her as one would be of a precious gem. While Brandon had used his strength to bring her pain, Eric was intent on pleasing her at every turn. Eric learned her body in ways that Brandon was not capable, interweaving himself into her emotions and her life seamlessly. It was as heady as it was dangerous.

Rebecca turned her coffee cup in her hand, "I like him. Maybe too much."

"That's how I felt when I first met Bill," Sookie said lowly. "I didn't want to like him so much, but being with him was so quiet."

Rebecca couldn't say that she related. Being with Eric was a maelstrom of emotion and adrenaline crashing against a physicality the likes of which she had never known. Nothing about him was quiet, once you got past the shiny veneer of stillness he erected upon himself. When Rebecca looked at Eric, she could see all the roiling passion inside him, the ferocity of his character. It drew her in, sucked her down into his depths until she didn't care that she couldn't breathe.

"Sometimes he scares me," Sookie continued, voice barely above a whisper.

The alarms in Rebecca's head screamed loudly and her eyes focused hard on Sookie. "You want to elaborate?"

Rebecca's hard tone sent Sookie backpedaling.

"Not like that," she said. "I just feel so much that it scares me sometimes. Like, my chest is gonna explode."

Rebecca nodded, knowing exactly what Sookie was feeling and empathizing with her. She also knew that getting swept up in romance more often than not lead to heartache and pain. What she didn't understand is how, so close to the conclusion of what she considered was the worst relationship of her life, Rebecca was jumping into yet another. She and Eric had traded no promises, but there was something very concrete about the things they shared when they were together. When he wasn't flirting with her or curling her toes with touches and kisses, Eric was talking to her. Really talking.

He explained nuances of the vampire world to her in broad strokes of blood-soaked color. Three were, apparently, a vast number of dangers that could bring danger to his kind. Newly turned vampires were generally sheltered by their sires for the first century or so until they learned the ups and downs of their political world. Feeding from a pet human or encroaching on someone else's territory could end in the true death, if the offended vampire were powerful enough. Not only that, but there was magic in their blood that tied them all together in a winding circle of generations. There was some talk of a First in the bloodline, but that was generally considered myth. The ancients hadn't been seen for millennia and all living vampires' bloodlines were muddled after a centuries. Very few could prove their age without calling on their Maker.

There was something more, though, in Rebecca's interactions with Eric. He rarely took her amongst his own kind, choosing to hide her away in his bedroom or whisk her off to restaurants so that he could watch her eat. When they did have a moment spent in the company of other vampires, Eric's hand was always on her body. He pulled her closer into the bend of his side or slung an arm around her shoulders. One particularly bold female vampire had received a vicious growl when she'd made an offhand comment about sharing of pets. Rebecca later commented that she'd seen it as common practice during her marriage to Brandon and had also received a growl. This one was, admittedly, filled with a little more determination than the previous. Eric spent the next three hours reinforcing the idea that sharing was out of the question.

Rubbing at her belly, Rebecca looked down at the coffee in her hands, thinking that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to be consuming this much caffeine. Her stomach had been sensitive lately, only able to receive small amounts of food at a time. She had checked several times for fever, finding none and figured that it was just a lack of sleep. With her days spent at the shop and her nights alternating between grabbing as much shut eyes as she could get and going out with Eric, Rebecca was having trouble keeping the balance. She set the cup down and leaned back against the couch.

"How is Bill?"

Sookie's eyes watered a little, "He left."

Rebecca repeated her sentence slowly, racking her brain to catch up with the information.

"Or he was taken, I don't know," Sookie sobbed, dropping her head into her hands.

Rubbing Sookie's back, Rebecca sighed, "I think you need to back up a little, Sook."

Between racks of sobs and heaving breaths, Rebecca gathered that Bill had proposed and it had Sookie running to the bathroom. When she got back, he was simply gone. He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts, not a word, for several days. Sookie was sure something awful had happened to him because this _just wasn't like Bill_. Rebecca had to stop her thought process when it whispered at the back of her mind that maybe Sookie didn't know Bill as well as she thought. Now was not the time to give the woman a dose of her cynicism.

Swallowing back a bit of bile that had risen with the acidity of the coffee, Rebecca continued to make attempts to soothe her friend until Sookie was calmed somewhat. She pulled a small mirror from her purse and dabbed at her smeared mascara with a Kleenex. Then, she folded her hands across her lap and squared her shoulders. Rebecca knew the look that crossed her face. She had already come up with a plan and was gearing up to telling her what they were going to do.

"I need Eric to help me find him. He's the Sheriff and if a vampire goes missing in his region, he's supposed to help find them, right?"

Sookie was pretty much right. Eric had told her as much during one of their rare relaxed moments in bed. He loathed investigating the disappearances, half the time knowing that the vampire had committed some kind of crime and was running from punishment. It had not passed Rebecca's attention that Eric and Bill were… not friendly with one another, but maybe she could put in a good word for him. The nod that Rebecca had intended to be reassuring quickly gave her a headache.

As she stood the head for the medicine cabinet, Luca stormed through the door looking furious and muttering in a low tone.

"Hey," Rebecca called out, "Long time, no see."

Luca seemed to have not heard her, slamming her bag down on the counter and running her hands through her multi-colored hair. She pulled at it, turning in angry circles until she caught sight of Sookie sitting on their couch.

"Hello," Luca said, dropping her arms.

"Hi," Sookie replied, standing. "I should go."

"No," Luca sighed, "You should probably stay. We're going to need you, anyway."

Sookie cast Rebecca a questioning gaze, but Rebecca could only shrug and reach for the aspirin. She tossed back a couple of the little white pills and leaned against the cabinet next to the oven.

"So," she began awkwardly, "What's up?"

Luca twirled dramatically, landing in the armchair near the window, "Vengeance."

"Care to explain," Rebecca replied, laughing.

Arms flopping, Luca turned her eyes to the ceiling and worked her jaw for a moment. "I'm going to have to kill some people, I think."

"Ah," Sookie drawled, "I don't think killing people is the best plan."

Luca's head rose and she pierced Sookie with a glare, "What else am I supposed to do?"

Sookie rolled a shoulder, "You could try talking about it."

"Talking," Luca said slowly, "That could work."

Rebecca looked from person to person, wincing as the light began to hurt her eyes. She had a real migraine coming on and she dreaded having to call Marge and explain why she wouldn't be coming in the next day. She rubbed at her temples and crossed the room to sit next to Sookie.

"You've never heard of talking it out with people?"

Luca threw up her hands, "I've never really needed to talk about it. People just kind of do what I want them to."

Sookie's brows rose in surprise, "What planet do you come from?"

Without skipping a beat, Luca answered, "You wouldn't have heard of it."

"Okay," Sookie muttered beneath her breath in a long pair of syllables. She squinted at Luca from her spot on the couch and Rebecca rolled her eyes. There was no concealing that Sookie was trying to read into Luca and figure out if she was completely insane. The squint lasted for a few more seconds until Sookie's expression morphed into one of surprise. Her eyes flicked over to Rebecca with genuine concern.

"I can't read her," Sookie mouthed.

Rebecca tilted her head to the side, "Really?"

"Of course she can't," Luca butted in irritably. "Do you think I'd let you just run around in my mind?"

Her tone was almost challenging and it was the first time Rebecca had ever seen Luca be anything but cheerful and bubbly. Her body was relaxed in the chair, but her eyes were startlingly fierce. Luca leveled a look at Sookie that made Rebecca wish there were more space between them. She glanced down at the flimsy coffee table and wondered if it would hold against the potential oncoming fight.

Sookie's voice was low, careful, "How can you block me out?"

Luca smiled, and the woman Rebecca knew returned with fervor, "I've got loads of practice. You're really very talented, though. I've seen some of your work. We don't get many like you at home."

Rebecca saw Sookie blush a little at the compliment, fumbling with trying to figure out the appropriate response.

"Thank you, I think."

Luca nodded, "You're welcome."

Turning to face Rebecca, Luca bit her lip, "You look unwell."

Rebecca unconsciously touched her neck, "Just need a nap."

Eyes narrowing a little, Luca reached out and brushed her fingertips along Rebecca's arm, "I think you need more than a nap."

"I'm fine," came Rebecca's automatic response.

Sookie chimed in, "You do look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Rebecca reiterated firmly. "Just tired."

And she was tired, far more tired than any time she'd stayed up all night and gone to school the next day or suffered through a tequila hangover. It was a bone deep kind of tired that made her think she might sleep for a whole day without really trying. The kind of tired that, when you woke up, you forgot where you were and what year it was.

Laughing conspiratorially, Sookie added wryly, "I wonder why."

Blushing, Rebecca shoved at her friend, "Shut up."

"Eric's been keeping you up, hasn't he," Sookie continued, taunting.

"I said shut up," Rebecca called out, burying her face in the pillow. "Seriously."

Sookie, thankfully, laid off her for the moment, giving her a smile that said she wasn't nearly done but was only letting up because Rebecca didn't feel well. As soon as Rebecca caught up on sleep, she knew she was in for a razing.

And then Luca said, "I heard Bill's gone missing."

Sookie looked stricken, "How did you know that?"

Luca shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I want to help get him back, if you want to work with me."

Earnestly, Sookie stared hard at Luca, "Do you really think you can help?"

"Absolutely," Luca answered with a confident smile. "I didn't want to tell you so soon, but since we're engaging in girl talk, I guess now is a good time. I've got a lead—not a good one, mind you—but a lead nonetheless. I'm waiting on a message from my… friend."

Excited and shaking a little, Sookie looked at Luca with this kind of wonder that had Rebecca's brow furrowing. She had all kinds of questions like: How did Luca find out about Bill before she did? What were Luca's connections? Who the fuck could simply take a centuries old vampire off the street? And _why in God's name_ did her head hurt so damn badly?

The conversation blurred a little as the pain in her head intensified. The light was too bright and she could smell the coffee still sitting on the table at her knees. It turned her stomach even further until the bile burned at the back of her throat. She pressed her palms to her eyes, pushing out the light and ignoring the volley of voices discussing Bill and what could have happened to him. Luca kept telling Sookie that she would know more shortly, and Sookie kept trying to get more information. The woman could grab onto something and shake it like a pit bull when she got her mind on it. Rebecca was tempted to simply tell her to let it go for now so that she could get some quiet in the living room.

Luca's voice abruptly cut off on a high note as she was explaining that she couldn't explain any more information. She turned in the chair and examined Rebecca for a long moment.

"You're sick," She said simply. Then, she turned to Sookie, "I am told chicken soup will work. Will chicken soup work for this?"

Sookie touched the back of her hand to Rebecca's forehead, "You're burning up."

"No, I'm not," Rebecca shot back. "I don't feel warm."

She tutted at her, "Yes you are. Let's get you to bed."

Rebecca allowed them to pull her to standing and got about ten steps before her knees buckled. She sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor, her vision spinning as Sookie and Luca's face swam above her. Luca's pink hair turned brassy in the sunlight, forcing Rebecca to close her eyes and keep them that way.

"I'm fine," She breathed reflexively.

"The hell you are," Sookie hissed. Rebecca heard her dialing on a phone, "I'm calling for an ambulance."

Luca touched Rebecca's forehead and a cool sensation shot across her skin, easing the pain somewhat. She touched her arms and legs, sending that same refreshing feeling through her limbs and calming the heart she didn't know was racing.

"Ms. Stackhouse," Luca whispered, "I think we need more than one of your medical doctors."

At that point, Rebecca blacked out.

**OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH... **

**I seem to be performing a lot of cliffhangers lately. Not sure if that's just the nature of the story of if I enjoy being mean. **


	21. Chapter 21

Rebecca had never felt such pain in her entire life. Her body was being seared by something crawling around inside her. It twisted and turned, burning through her bones until they felt so brittle Rebecca thought they might break with the strain. She was lying in a bathtub full of water that was ice cold despite the steam she could see rising from the depths. Her clothes were sticking to her skin, cutting at it with every movement. In short, Rebecca was lying in a pool in Hell.

Someone must have heard her begin to thrash from the bedroom because a flash of blonde hair appeared in her periphery. Hands tried to steady her, forcing screams from her throat as the pain intensified. She bit at them, snarling.

"Easy," Eric murmured, reaching over to turn the hot water tap. "You're running a fever."

From the door, Luca said, "Why don't you tell her what's really happening?"

He growled softly, swirling the hotter water in with the rest and brushing his fingers across Rebecca's forehead. "Now is not the time."

Luca scoffed, "Now is the perfect time."

Behind Luca, Sookie's soft voice chimed in, "I don't think she'll be able to understand it right now. Let's just make her comfortable. We'll deal with the other stuff later."

Rebecca glanced at Luca's pretty face, contorted in frustration and not a little rage. She huffed a breath, stamped her little foot, and turned away in a swish of ire. Her form blurred with the distance and Rebecca turned her attention back to the situation at hand. Shaking and shivering, teeth chattering, she griped the edges of the tub and tried to lift her body from the water. Eric used a finger to press her back downwards, the sensation excruciating.

With another snap of her teeth, her only weapon at the time, she plopped back down into the tub and turned her back to him. The tears that had been sitting on the rims of her eyes were starting to fall and in her anger she refused to let Eric see them. She may be weak and look and feel like a drowned rat, but Rebecca still had her dignity.

With an unneeded sigh, Eric stood and looked down at her from his immense height. Rebecca could feel his gaze like a secondary burn upon her skin. She curled inwards in order to shield herself against it, upset that she was sick despite regular infusions of Eric's blood. It would only be her that was immune to the healing and regenerative properties of vampire blood and it, quite frankly, sucked. With a pathetic groan, Rebecca dropped her head beneath the icy waters and let her body relax as much as the muscles could, given that they were wont to spasm uncontrollably.

A few seconds later, she was being lifted from the bath, another scream tearing past her lips at the change in equilibrium forced the contents of her stomach outwards. Nauseated and trembling, Rebecca was stripped of her clothing and wrapped in several layers of blankets until she felt like a swaddled child. While her conscious mind railed against the comprehension of her weakness, her body nestled deeper, feeling somewhat relieved.

Eric sat next to her for a long time, brushing her hair back from her face. His expression was guarded and thoughtful. Rebecca would have teased him a little, if she had the energy to speak. Across the room, Luca sulked in a corner while Sookie paced nervously. She wrung her hands in a gesture that Rebecca had seen many times over the years. Whatever was happening to her was serious shit and Sookie was trying to think of a solution.

"How much time do we have?" Sookie asked, coming to a stop.

Eric's eyes remained on Rebecca's face, "We have time."

"Not as much as you think," Luca interjected with acidity.

"Shut. Up," Eric enunciated in a low tone, his eyes narrowing on Rebecca's jaw line. He touched the skin below her chin and turned her face to the side, examining the pulse. As he looked, Rebecca thought that she could feel her heart pound harder, working overtime just to keep the blood flowing. With every passing pulse, the muscle grew more tired, exhausted with its daily activity. It was then that Rebecca understood the gravity of her illness. It was then that Rebecca knew she was dying.

Her heart fluttered with renewed exertion, adrenaline and fear replacing her nausea and anxiety. Breathing hard, Rebecca fidgeted in her blankets, growing hot despite her earlier cold. Eric leaned away, taking in her body from top to bottom in an assessing way that made her flush with embarrassment. This only made the smile he was trying to hide burst forth and widen across his face in a bloom of amusement.

"You look terrible," he said.

Sookie gasped, "Eric! Don't be rude."

He chuckled, "Just making a statement."

With a wide gesture, Eric shuffled Rebecca more towards the side of the bed and settled in beside her, one arm wrapping her shoulders. He squeezed lightly as he got comfortable, crossing one ankle over the other.

"We have a lot to talk about, you and I."

Rebecca cast him a baleful glance tempered with anger. Her head was pounding, her body ached, and she was in no mood to have a serious conversation no matter how desperately she wanted to know what was going on. Sookie came to sit beside her, but Luca remained in place, glaring out from the shadows with eerily bright eyes.

Eric dropped his head back and lifted his gaze to the ceiling, "Matters have become complicated."

Rebecca's upper lip curled in irritation.

"Yes, I know," he said. "I have been careless. You've been ingesting large amounts of my blood for quite some time and I have allowed it."

Sookie patted her arm, as if the explanation would require Rebecca be comforted.

Eric continued, his voice lowered an octave, the sound rumbling at her side. "Your immune system is attacking your body with increasing voracity. You are rejecting yourself."

Thoroughly confused, Rebecca rolled her head on the axis of her loose muscled neck and raised a brow at Sookie.

"You're changin'," Sookie whispered, her voice hoarse. She paused for a moment, the words caught in her throat, "Into a vampire."

"Against her will," Luca added before falling silent again.

Eric stiffened at her side, "You don't know that."

The truth was, however, that Luca was right. Rebecca no more wanted to be a vampire than she wanted to go back to middle school. It was an uncomfortable idea that was fraught with half remembered terror. The thought was repugnant and vile—and inescapable. While Eric had veered away from making a child in their conversations, Brandon definitely hadn't. The process, he told her, could be done in many ways, but always ended with burial and resurrection. Brandon had failed to inform her that it would be this painful. She felt feverish, livid, exhausted, and fragile all at the same time.

As her silence wore on, the other occupants in the room began to fidget. Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to think through the pain. She needed a plan, but could only spin her wheels as her thought processes skittered sporadically across her consciousness.

Finally, she said, "Can it be reversed?"

Eric shook his head, his eyes focused on her face. "I had hoped to introduce this more gradually."

"Well, you blew it," Rebecca breathed with venom in her voice. "I don't even have a choice, do I?"

From her spot leaning against the wall, Luca pushed forward, "Not if you want to live."

Some combative part of Rebecca spit out, "And if I don't?"

Sookie's face dropped, her eyes squinting in an effort to discern whether or not Rebecca was being serious. Luca simply crossed her arms and waited. Rebecca avoided glancing at Eric, unsure of how he was going to take it and what her reaction to his reaction would be. She wanted to make this decision on her own without the influence of a lover or a friend who may have good intentions but didn't necessarily understand what becoming a vampire would mean to Rebecca. For so long she despised them because of what Brandon had done to her. And then she feared them because Eric was so demanding and intimidating. While Rebecca was more comfortable around the species as a whole, there was a huge chasm between being a human comfortable with them and actually _being_ one of them. She would have to drink blood, hunt humans, and hide from the sun. Her life would be spent in darkness and that was something Rebecca didn't know if she could handle gracefully.

And then there was the concept of eternity. She would see those that she loved die around her. Eric would be there, but in her experience no relationship lasted forever. Rebecca would be even more alone than she was in her marriage, walking as a solitary creature of darkness. The concept was dark and not a little depressing.

Eric waved a hand, "Leave us."

Sookie made to protest, her mouth opening with indignation.

"Leave us," Eric repeated, his voice dropping dangerously low.

Reaching out, Rebecca patted Sookie's hand, saying that she would be fine. Sookie sent her a pitying look before trudging out of the room, Luca at her back. The woman sent Eric a hard look, her pink hair swinging with disdain as she closed the door behind her.

There was a long moment of nothing once they were alone. Rebecca passed the tense moments by focusing on the headache that was rapidly blurring her vision. She wanted to sleep, but feared that she might never wake up if she dared. Wrapped as she was in the blankets, she was at Eric's mercy more than ever before. Weak and tired, she could put up very little fight.

Eric adjusted his position so that he could look her squarely in the eye, "Would it be so bad to become like me?"

Rebecca sighed deeply, wincing as her lungs rebelled, "You don't understand."

"Help me, then." His eyes were narrowed, but his expression was relaxed. There was something in their depths that Rebecca couldn't quite name, an almost panic that danced near the surface but was held staunchly back.

"Would you want to become the thing that tormented you?" Rebecca asked, blinking slowly at him. She wasn't going to last long in the conversation, her consciousness slowly slipping away.

Eric leaned forward and grasped her shoulders, "You would be no such thing. You would be eternal, healthy, immortal. I will be there with you."

She tilted her head to the side, very nearly saddened, "Not always."

Angry, he shook her gently, "Yes, always. You cannot die."

"Why not?" She asked, acerbically.

"Because," he said, with another shake, "I will not let you."  
>With a smile, Rebecca tried a different tactic, "It's natural to die, Eric. All humans do."<p>

He leaned further forward, until his scent surrounded Rebecca. She let her head fall forward so that their foreheads were touching, "Not you."

Rebecca repeated her question, somehow wanting to goad her despite the ever looming threat of death.

For a moment, Rebecca thought he would fling her away and damn her. She thought that he would give up and let her have her way, for once. His expression hardened so fiercely that she thought his skin might break from the pressure, releasing an ooze of his lifeblood across his cheeks. The fantasy fractures when the skin around his eyes wrinkled and his chin jutted out. He pressed his lips together, his hands tightening on her arms to the point that she knew there would be marks.

"Because I need you. Because I need you with me."

It might have been the fever. It might have been the security of his grasp and the wrap of the blankets. It might have been the slight dulling of the pain in short term relief. But, something inside Rebecca blossomed and smiled at the admission, wrenched unwillingly from his pale lips. She felt her heart pound with emotion, her eyes prick with tears. So this was what it felt like to be needed, the warmth of necessity.

"Okay," Rebecca breathed.

In a flash of movement, Eric was holding her off the mattress, pressing her to his side with surprising tenderness. He kissed her cheeks, the top of her head, and the skin left bare by the blankets. Rebecca's smile was wide as she reveled in his reaction, in his desperate joy.

"But I want to see the sun again. Just one more time."

Eric was off the bed in an instant, "Of course. Sookie will see to it."

Before she could protest, he was leaning out of the door, calling for her friend frantically. Sookie arrived, moving deftly on her heels. Rebecca grew fuzzy with the details of the conversation, her body wanting to sleep. She slipped off into unconsciousness without really knowing it, dreamless and thankfully painlessly.

Rebecca was still breathing when she woke, though the act was difficult and raspy. Every few minutes, her heart would palpitate, stuttering over the beat as it tried to keep the blood flowing. Sookie sponged the sweat from her forehead dutifully, asking if she could stand. It took both Sookie and Luca to hold her steady as she rose from the bed. Eric was in his sleeping place, having been forced from the room by Sookie's maternal nature. She had slept all night and most of the day and, likely, this would be her last chance to fulfill her wish.

The journey was slow and as they passed the bar, Rebecca made another request. Luca let her shoulders go and dipped down behind the bar to grab a six pack of beer. Since she was a dying woman, Rebecca didn't think it would hurt to have a little buzz beforehand.

Sookie had set up a couple of folding chairs not far from the front entrance of the bar, all facing the falling sun. Rebecca winced in the brightness, her skin already too sensitive to the sun's warmth to be entirely comfortable. She allowed Luca to help her sit and to hand her the coldest beer she'd ever held. It was ice in her hands, soothing and piercing all at once. Sookie had to pop the top, but Rebecca refused the straw she held out helpfully.

"I'm not going out drinking from a crazy straw," Rebecca said with a huff.

Sookie shrugged, "I don't know, it kind of suits the situation, don't you think?"

"Crazy is definitely an adjective I would use," Luca murmured to the side, sitting in her designated chair.

Releasing the tension in her neck, Rebecca sat back into the chair until she slouched gracelessly. "I take it you're not on board with this."

Luca pulled her pink hair to the side and brushed her fingers through it thoughtfully. "I would that you had a choice."

"Oh," Rebecca replied with a teasing lilt, "You _would that I had a choice._"

Sookie joined her in a giggle and Luca rolled her eyes.

"This isn't that way it should be done," Luca ground out in a displeased tone.  
>There was moment of silence that reminded Rebecca of the seriousness of her impending death and the changes that would come afterwards. She, too, wished that she had, had a choice. But, sometimes life threw you curveballs in the form of a strangely affectionate, blond haired lover that embarrassed at the faintest hint of sap or sentiment. Rebecca didn't know if she was ready for eternity—no, she knew she wasn't ready for it. She guessed that was the thing about eternity, though, there was time to adapt. Infinite time. The subject baffled her too much and she reacted by taking a swig of the beer sitting in her palms.<p>

The drink was cool to her burning throat and oh so familiar. She wondered when the last time she simply sat in the yard and drank a beer was, pinpointing it at several years prior. Brandon had just been turned and she was, strangely enough, also contemplating eternity. This latter contemplation was much more suited to her tastes even if it was twice as unexpected.

"Ain't life a bitch?" Rebecca uttered between sips.

Sookie sighed and stretched out her long, tan legs. "You got that right."

"Eternity will be a bitch, too," Luca drawled lightly, "Mark my words."

With half a laugh, Rebecca said, "Duly noted."

Not much was said as the sun continued to sink low. More beers were passed around and Rebecca felt her body tire. Not wanting to end the camaraderie, Rebecca accepted the crazy straw with her third beer, wrapping her mouth around it ruefully and pulling a long drag. She was buzzed and well on her way to drunk, her tolerance at an all time low. The day transitioned into night and with it came the muggy dew of humidity that sat like a physical weight around her shoulders. When there was no sunlight left, Rebecca felt the swish of wind that signaled Eric was nearby.

"This is quite a sight," He said.

Rebecca didn't bother to crane her neck around to look at him, "Just getting my kicks while I can."

Despite the fact that she couldn't see his face, Rebecca knew that she had said the wrong thing. The long moment of silence stretched too long. Eventually, Eric knelt down between her chair and Sookie's.

"Are you well?"

Rebecca smiled, "As well as I can be, I think."

"Good," he replied, standing. He gingerly removed her nearly empty beer from her hands and set it on the gravel. It tilted and rolled away, but he paid it no heed. Then, Rebecca was carefully gathered up and carried back into the bar, past the dance floor and the offices, to their room. The bed was turned down and there was a fresh change of clothes next to the pillows.

Eric undressed and dressed her again as a ritual. The night gown was made of such fine material that Rebecca blushed wearing it. For Eric, however, the cut and pattern were demure. The scoop neck dipped low, yes, but her arms, legs, and torso were fully covered. In fact, the floor length hem was downright matronly compared to Rebecca's perception of Eric's fashion tastes. The way he looked at her was not demure in the least. He stared at her skin, caressed the curve of her spine and the bend of her thighs with mixture of hunger and reverence.

"Is everything ready?" He called out softly towards the door.

To Rebecca's utter surprise, Godric's face peered around the corner, looking nearly angelic in the refraction of light from the lamp on the nightstand. Rebecca hadn't seen him for quite some time, assuming that he had gone back to doing… whatever he had been doing before the church massacre. He smiled as her, but she could see some tension around his kind eyes. In the mist of her draining energy, Rebecca had the wild thought that tomorrow he would be her grandfather. It was an odd conundrum that he didn't have graying hair or wrinkles around his mouth when he smiled. She bet that he had some awesome stories despite that fact that she was more likely to be sitting across Eric's lap than on Godric's knee.

"Yes, my son," was his reply. "I have prepared the resting place."

Godric stepped inside the room and stood beside Eric, his gaze traversing Rebecca's outfit and coming to rest on her hair.

"She will need to bind her hair, I think. The rocks can catch and tear it."

Bewildered, Rebecca watched as Eric took the proffered hair tie and began to arrange her tresses into an elaborate braid. He made short work of it, tying off the ends with finality. They both helped her to stand and then she was being carried off to her death. Outside, Sookie and Luca stood next to a deep hole—her grave, she comprehended with not a little anxiety.

Eric, feeling her muscles tighten, whispered, "I will be with you."

His words allayed only a small part of the fear and her heart began to pound in her chest, aching with each passing beat. With a short hop, Eric dropped into the pit and settled her on the blanket that Godric had laid down for them. He arranged her on her back and touched her cheek.

"Okay," Rebecca hissed out of reflex, "Okay."

Eric kissed her slowly, easing over her with the minutest of movements. When he moved from her mouth to her neck, Rebecca's eyes opened to see a myriad of faces looking down at her—one with pity, one with fear, and the other with unmasked pride. She gasped as Eric's teeth tore through her skin, the pain slicing through the dull ache she'd been feeling for two days. Instinctively, she struggled, vainly trying to stop what had now become inevitable.

Drinking deeply, Eric stilled her body and ran a hand soothingly down her side until Rebecca's vision blurred and breathing became too difficult. She exhaled one last time, her eyes falling closed. Eric's was still drinking when her sight left her body and the world became distant and cold.

**So, there is just one more chapter after this-and let me say, I didn't see it comin'. ;)  
><strong>


	22. Chapter 22

**And here we have the final chapter. :)**

The pressure on her chest was immense, leaving no room for Rebecca to draw breath. Out of instinct, she struggled against the weight while her eyes worked to adjust to the darkness. There was a complete absence of light, a black expanse that refused to clear no matter how long she tried. Her frantic movements were small, miniscule at best, and greatly ineffectual. She only managed to move the dirt around her body more tightly. Just as she was about to resign herself to being buried for the rest of the foreseeable future, the ground shifted and she was hoisted upwards rather roughly.

Everything was too bright. The light burned her eyes even though they were sealed tightly shut. She curled inwards, groaning in pain while her mind tried to orient itself. Thoughts were flying around in circles, half remembered dreams and experiences trying to coalesce into some kind of life story. She clawed at the ground, yanking grass from its roots and crumbling rocks into sand. Her spine arched, stretching the muscles of her back and hips towards (she thought) the sky. Her reflexive breaths sucked in air that tasted like ash.

Slowly, Rebecca began to remember things. She had been buried alive. She had been dead. And now she was not. Testing her eyes once more, Rebecca gazed at the grass in front if her, large chunks torn at her sides. She lifted her chin and saw a dumpster and the brick face of a building. A passing firefly distracted her and she followed its path easily until the stars came into view.

The city didn't have stars like this. Rebecca could see the swirling arm of the Milky Way striking an arc across the horizon. She could see a million pinpricks of light, some larger than others, wavering across the sky. Her jaw unhinged in awe, her head tilting back to rest atop the round bend of her shoulders.

Movement to her left startled her and she was immediately on all fours, snarling. A face she recognized but couldn't name smiled down at her. He was filthy, covered in dirt from head to booted toe. She eased downward and a little backwards, rolling on the balls of her feet so that she could easily stand. He was still so tall she had to look up at him.

"Happy birthday," he said, and Rebecca had to choke back the little gasp. His voice was so familiar and yet alien—smooth, deep.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice sounding hollowly in her ears

"You'll remember in a moment. Are you hungry?"

The thought of hunger burst forth so violently that Rebecca doubled over. Her teeth ached and her jaws clenched while her insides twisted, empty. She pressed the heels of her hands into her abdomen, growling when the man chuckled lightly.

"You need to feed," he murmured as he slowly approached her.

Rebecca snarled again, maintaining the distance.

Sighing, he wiped the dirt from his arm and held it to his mouth. There was a strange movement of his jaw, and then Rebecca smelled something mouthwatering. It rolled over her tongue like honey, thick and sweet. She lurched towards him, stopping just short if mauling his body. Something wasn't right. She needed to think about this, needed to try to remember.

The man held his arm out to her and Rebecca was stunned at the gash along his wrist. The back of her mind rattled with the thought that he would definitely need stitches.

"You'll want to hurry before the wound closes," he called out tauntingly.

Rebecca bared her teeth at him and tried to organize her addled mind. She understood quite suddenly that it was him that smelled so nice. She lurched forward again, stumbling. It didn't matter what was going on or who he was. All that mattered was easing the pain in her belly and getting a taste of him. She fell to her knees and grabbed the proffered wrist before he could snatch it away.

It was glorious, more than glorious. It was amazing, perfection, orgasmic. Nothing has tasted so good and no experience had made her feel so complete. She pulled and pulled, drawing more of him into her body. Her foggy thoughts sped up and her connections grew solid and coherent. This was Eric. She was still technically dead. And she would live forever. This was, indeed, a kind of birthday.

Gently, but firmly, Eric disengaged. He had knelt down beside her during her meal and was rubbing soothing circles on her back. Breathing unnecessarily hard, Rebecca leaned into him.

"It's done now," she croaked, still swallowing the remnants of his blood.

Eric nodded, "It is done."

Rebecca took mental stock if her body. She certainly felt different. Her skin seemed more sensitive to miniscule shifts in the air. Her ears could pick up toads that she absolutely knew were three point six miles away. Her eyes picked up and processed her environment with startling efficiency. And she felt fucking fantastic. Better then she had ever felt.

The back door of the building opened and Sookie hesitantly stepped forward, her eyes scanning for the differences in her physical body. Rebecca knew there would be little to no difference, the change altering her psychologically and on a cellular level. Her basic appearance would remain much the same, save for the occasional extension of her fangs. They were tucked neatly in her gums, the newly developed bone still tender in places.

"Did," Sookie began, stopping for a moment to swallow down whatever emotion she was feeling. "Are you okay?"

Rebecca nodded distractedly. Sookie smelled… very good. Even from the distance, Rebecca could scent the floral aroma of her blood. She consciously worked to keep her teeth firmly in place. Behind her friend, Luca peeked out, her pale pink hair glinting in the moonlight.

"Welcome back," she said.

Rebecca stood, "Thank you."

The appetizing scent got stronger as she neared, her abdomen clenching nigh uncontrollably as her hunger returned. Rebecca forced herself to stop breathing as they moved into the empty bar. Ginger was preparing the tables, wiping them down and setting chairs back into their places. She sent Rebecca a giddy wave as she went about her business, happily maneuvering through a rote routine that seemed to suit her.

They gathered at the back of the room, Pam glancing through paperwork before the start of the evening. Rebecca received an analyzing glance from Pam's emotionless eyes, a mere twinge of her mouth signaling that Pam thought anything about Rebecca.

"I suppose I should welcome you to the family," Pam said in a near snarl.

Rebecca shrugged, "If you want."

"I don't," was the reply.

Eric guided her down into the booth, his hands somehow always on her body. He pushed her to the far corner, blocking her in. Sookie and Luca also took a seat and Rebecca caught sight of Godric's approach from the darkened hallway. Her presence was acknowledged with a warm nod as he took a seat next to Luca.

Sookie cleared her throat, "I know that this isn't exactly the best timing, but Bill is still missing."

"Right," Luca said, tossing her hair.

Rebecca heard the miniscule intake of air in Godric's chest as it flew near his shoulder.

Luca, it seemed, was focused on other things, "So, we've got a problem."

Alarmed, Sookie repeated, "Problem?"

"Yeah," Luca drawled, looking very slightly guilty, "I know where he is, but my source says that he looks…pretty happy to be there."

Sookie's ire increased exponentially over the course of Luca's admission, her face turning fiery, "What the fuck does that mean?"

Luca threaded her fingers together, "He's had a few chances to escape and he didn't take them."

"That doesn't mean anything!" Sookie yelled. "Anything could have happened."

Rebecca reached out and touched Sookie's hand, "Calm down. At least we know where he is."

"There's that," Luca said, "But getting to him is going to be tedious to say the least."

Godric chuckled, "Are your adventures anything but tedious, Luca?"

She rolled her eyes, "Life is generally tedious, Godric. You know that far better than anyone at this table."

Rebecca looked from one to the other. Obviously, there was something known to both that was a mystery to the others. While it was certainly an interesting secret, they had far more important things to work on at the moment. She stored the information away for later exploration.

"Do we have a plan?" Rebecca asked, leaning back into the booth.

Eric circled an arm around her waist, pulling her subtly closer to him. His hand slipped along the curve of her body, tugging lightly at the material of her dress. She looked down, noting that it was filthy with dirt and that her feet were bare against the wooden floor. The thought of a hot shower taunted the edges of her mind. Would even something so simple as a shower feel different now that she was no longer human?

Her attention was brought back to the conversation at hand, Sookie and Luca arguing heatedly over how they would approach the situation. Luca was intent on sneaking in using some kind of ruse and Sookie had the notion that they should simply knock on the front door. Rebecca kept getting distracted by the feeling of Eric's hand upon her body, ghosting over her nerves and the still prevalent smell of something amazingly delicious wafting across her consciousness every time she happened to forget that she didn't need to breathe.

Godric leaned forward a little, setting one arm on the table, "I do not like either plan. Something is amiss with Bill's unfortunate disappearance."

Luca scoffed, "He hasn't disappeared. We know exactly where he is. Whether or not it is worth it to go after him is the question."

Sookie looked near ready to fight, "Of course it is worth it. Bill's bein' held captive by God knows who in some mansion in Mississippi. We're going. That's final."

From her spot one table over, Rebecca could see Pam lift her eyes to the ceiling, looking as if she were trying to control her immediate response of biting sarcasm.

Eric refused to do any such thing and rolled his eyes, "Why should I care where Bill has gone?"

Rebecca's eyebrows lifted at the scathing tone. On the outside, he looked bored, but his hand flexed around her hip in agitation. She placed her hand on his thigh, half in comfort, half in question. His free hand lifted from the table and settled atop her fingers and she could feel the hint of callous along the pad of his palm.

Sookie pursed her lips, "You're the sheriff. A vampire in your area has been kidnapped."

Eric scoffed, "Somehow I'm experiencing déjà vu. How many times are you going to make demands upon me based on my position?"

"I wouldn't have to if you'd actually do your job," Sookie shot back.

Feeling Eric's body tense in preparation for attack, Rebecca shushed them both as gently as she could while trying not to breathe.

"Bill's our friend and we should help him," she said. "If he needs it."

Luca absently braided a piece of her pastel hair, "That's the thing. My source says he doesn't seem to need it. He looks healthy from a distance."

"At the risk of sounding cliché," Godric chimed in genially, "Looks can be deceiving."

"How very wise of you, ancient one."

The group turned in unison to see a rather tall vampire strolling towards them with a jaunty step. His smile was wide and careless, his stride confident and strong.

Eric stood, "Who might you be?"

"I," the vampire announced with flair, "Am Russell Edginton."  
>Pam rose to stand next to her Maker, "What do you want?"<p>

Russell's smile remained quite firmly in place, "What? No hospitality? Not even a drink before we get down to brass tacks?"

There was a moment where Rebecca thought Eric would simply rip the undying hell out of the intruder, but he surprised her by lifting a hand and offering a table.

"Ginger, get Mr. Edginton a True Blood."

Though he looked none too pleased that he was being offered synthetic blood, Russell accepted the bottle and took a seat, leaning far back into the chair. Eric sat across from him, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

"Talk," he said.

Russell worked his tongue in his mouth for a moment before saying, "Alright. I want a trade."

Eric tilted his head to the side, "Do explain."

"Do you know that pain of losing a child, Mr. Northman?"

Rebecca tensed a little, her eyes focused solely on their interplay. Both were eerily still as they weighed their options. Russell's confidence never faltered, his goal unflinching.

"I do not," Eric answered simply.

"I know that pain," Russell uttered, his countenance falling into deathly seriousness. "You have caused me that pain."

Eric took far too long to reply for Rebecca's taste, her brows drawing together in confusion and fear.

"Brandon."

Russell leaned forward, "Yes, Mr. Northman. Brandon."

Rebecca was very lucky that she no longer needed air in her lungs as it rushed out, the fear broiling in her stomach. Her fingers dug into the table as she fought not to run, not to move. Sookie wrapped her hands around Rebecca's wrist in silence comfort, though her attention was clearly on the pair of very dangerous enemies sitting mere feet away.

"He encroached upon my area," Eric explained. "He killed without discretion."

"He fed on the dregs of the earth," Russell shot back. "They were cattle."

Eric shrugged, "Still, he was asked not to draw attention to himself. He did not heed my warning."

The fire in Russell's words could have set the very city aflame, "You killed him because he drew attention from _humans_. They're food, you fucking priss."

"Haven't you heard?" Eric questioned lightly, though Rebecca could see the strain in the muscles of his neck, "We're mainstreaming now."

Russell stood in a flash of movement that was incredibly fast, even for Rebecca's new eyes. He squared his shoulders and looked down on Eric, his brows drawn low.

"I have Mr. Compton settled rather comfortably in my estate. His Maker is keeping him company for now."

Rebecca heard the gasp from Sookie, her expression widening with surprise. She turned her palms upwards and gripped her friend's hands in turn, holding in her firmly to the seat.

Eric, for his part, simply remained in place and looked up at Russell. "Why would that information interest me?"

"Because," Russell drawled, "I plan to kill him."

Eric pressed his palms to the table and stood, "I shouldn't have to reiterate the question."

"I will kill him," Russell said. "And I will report that you killed my child to your Queen. Oh, and I'll also kill your little dog, too."

"You don't know what you're saying, Russell," Eric intoned, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're grieving."

"I'm issuing vengeance," Russell yelled. "I will burn this pathetic little town to the ground, kill as many as I like, bathe in their pathetic blood. Unless…,"

There was a pause, "Unless?"

"Eye for an eye, Mr. Northman."

Russell's gazed turned to focus on Rebecca, his smile quite suddenly returning.

"Child for a child," he growled.

Before Eric could slaughter Russell, Luca was standing, her face thunderous.

"You are walking on dangerous ground, vampire," she said with a sneer.

Russell lifted one sardonic brow, "Am I?"

Luca's shoulders squared and she seemed to glow in the low light, her hair flying out with unfelt wind, "You come into my court with blood fresh on your skin, you threaten my courtiers with death, and you pronounce destruction upon the land I have claimed. Yes, you are walking a _very thin line._"

He laughed, "And who are you that you can make these proclamations?"

Luca's smile was cutting, "I am Dame Daelucaracia, of the Fae. I am heir to the vineyards and wealth of my father, Lord Chancellor to our King. And if you speak one more word against my people, I am going to kick your ass."

**Dun, dun, duuuuun. Ok, so who saw that coming? I didn't. Really. **

**There are planned sequels to this story. I will be completing my Avengers story arc before working on the second and third story. I'm also contemplating writing something with a focus on Bane from the Dark Knight. Do you think anyone would be interested in that?**

**Thank you to everyone for sticking with this story through the extra long hiatus and the other various interruptions. Stay tuned. **


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